Marked
by Fizzxcolaxp0p
Summary: Roxas only remembers his last 5 years; he doesn't understand who he is or why he ended up in a city of pathological liars. He just knows that when the circus comes to Hallow Bastion, he feels something other than bitterness and confusion for the first time in his short memory.
1. Chapter 1

A warning to the masses.

This story is long, it's sad, and it's also wickedly confusing at some points. I, the author, have to keep my wild imagination in check at times.

There will be sex, there will be blood, there will be a very vague rape scene.

They'll be love and broken hearts.

Hide your children, cus this is about to get messy.

-Jae

Chapter 1

"Hey! Have you even been _listening_?" Roxas glanced up from his hands. No, he hadn't. Shuffling nervously, he attempted to make good with the tempered woman beside him.

"Yeah, I have, on and off..." He sighed. Why even bother pretending to be a good friend? He guessed it was because everyone else around him attempted to cover his or her true nature up. _When in Rome_, he would think.

"God, Roxas, it's not like your hands are even that important. Geez. Now, as I was saying..." Roxas inwardly grimaced. It was just another boring discussion on the circus coming to Hollow Bastion. He didn't get the excitement – what was so thrilling about seeing a bunch of people running around in sparkly outfits and bending their bodies like pretzels? It was almost depressing to think _that_ counted as entertainment.

"You're doing it again!"

"I'm doing what again?"

"Spacing out, duh!"

"Sorry, Olette," Roxas mumbled, trying his hardest not to punch the pretty girl in the face. For all of Olette's glossy brown hair and flawless skin, she could be a bitch to deal with sometimes. Or maybe she was just a bitch? She tried to act all caring and motherly, but at times she just came out sounding plastic.

"Well, whatever! Come on, we have to meet the guys." Waving her hands about in sudden urgency, Olette gripped Roxas' hand and began dragging him through the grim streets of Hollow Bastion. As they slipped past sketchy merchants and foggy alleyways, the city's inner chamber was revealed to them with all the sticky heat of boxed in walls, graffiti covered poles and unreliable street food. It's not that Roxas truly hated the city itself – there were ideal homes, convenient shopping, and loads of jobs available – but the people there were the worst. And he had to live with them, all their fake ideals and fantasies. To him, the city was just a crowd of people's mismatched lives shoved into one large holding box until they got over whatever was plaguing them and moved onto happier, more carefree lives in a nice town somewhere. For Roxas, the glorious metropolis of Hollow Bastion with its shining pipes and golden trim was just a fancy prison.

"We're here!" Olette screeched in delight, skipping up to a large grey brick building. "Oh, my God, I'm so excited to get the guys and finally see this circus!" She flapped her arms in glee and danced a little. Olette had been planning and scheming to get her band of boys to the circus for weeks now, slowly prodding and pushing Hayner, Pence and Roxas closer to caving into her idea. The boys had been reluctant at first, but slowly and surely they gave in. Roxas was the last to fall, reluctant to agree before the others had lost. So, as Olette continued with her cutesy look again, Roxas could do nothing but sigh remorsefully and watch his friend act like a bubble gum princess. If it were anyone else watching, it might have been endearing. However, her captive audience only consisted of Roxas and watching Olette just made Roxas want to hang himself.

"Hey, guys!" a voice called from farther away, snapping Olette out of her song and dance and Roxas from his musings. "Hope you didn't wait long!" A boy with a chubby frame and sloppy greased up hair ran towards them, a huge camera clutched in his hands. A brawny looking blonde kid trailed from behind, looking pissed. "If it wasn't for Mr. Gaylord over here having to have his hair perfectly gelled, we would have been here way earlier," the brunette continued, adopting his 'this is all a joke!' voice.

"Oh, Pence, _stop_ with all the kidding around!" Olette giggled. "I mean, really, I know you and Hayner are the best of friends!"

Roxas eyes his friends sceptically behind a fake grin of hello. Pence had always been kind of passive aggressive.

"Yeah, man!" Hayner cried, slapping Pence on the back. "Don't be stupid!" And Hayner had always been kind of dumb.

Roxas rolled his eyes; this was going to be a long day.

OOO

As they walked along the city street, Roxas listened to the 'banter' between his friends. The laughs and smiles all appeared so false, so ready to change on him at any given moment. But Roxas would never let it happen. He put on his own mask, his own 'joking' remarks, and faced them with the same eerie cheeriness that his friends gave him. Behind every smile, every word, he could taste poison. He could feel their malicious intent hidden under the surface of everything they muttered. It was like that for everyone in the city. Like a curse hung thick in the air around the walls, heavy with ordinate copper pipes corroded with time. Roxas often wondered that, as the city deteriorated, were the people also following suit? In this place, were people born with a toxin?

Maybe, because he was born somewhere else, he wasn't affected by it. Maybe it made him safe. He glanced casually at one of the many fountains in the city, trash drifting about its base, water murky. _This place was once beautiful_, Roxas thought sadly. But it fell, as all cities fall, into the grubby and greedy hands of its people. Roxas tuned to face his friends, the people of the city, and just like every other time he felt unrest. He wanted out. Unfortunately, he was trapped.

He looked to the dimming skyline, wondering if someone else out there had it worse than him.

OOO

"It'll all be over soon, it'll all be over soon..."

In the dark, a boy whispered to himself as he felt the heavy thud of footsteps on the floor that he lay upon. He reached out, stretching his fingers over the concrete of the floor and slowly scraping his palm against the rough surface. He'd endure any pain to take his mind off what was about to happen again and again and _again_.

He felt a dull pain and it dawned on him – it was happening again, he was being _touched_ again by those hands that he could feel even when he was alone. He let a tear slip out as his cheek was forced against the floor with each soft rock of his body.

"I-it'll-"

"Shut up," he keeper grunted, swinging his arm and lazily stuffing a sock into the boy's mouth. The boy froze, concentrating on breathing through his nostrils to save himself from suffocation. The man's hands began to wander along his skin's surface, prodding and touching.

"I'm not good enough for you, eh?" his captor said, running his hand over the boy's limp form. "I'm not enough? Well, fuck you!" The rocking grew harder, heavy pants and gasps the only sound outside of wet slapping filling the air.

_It'll all be over soon, it'll all be over soon_, the boy thought frantically. Tears escaped from his eyes, sliding down the side of his face and hitting the floor with distinct plops. Eventually, the rocking slowed and the boy was thrown to the side, sobbing through his makeshift gag. It was over.

"Heh, pathetic," the man said, throwing his hair over his shoulder. As he turned to go, he stopped before gazing at the boy's crumpled form and smirking maliciously. "It'll never be over. You're mine for life."

The boy had stopped caring to listen, though, and didn't even feel the pain as he was tugged from the ground by the shackles that were clasped tightly on his bony wrists. He slumped further down to the floor like a loose puppet; the world was nothing to him but a dark basement, icy concrete and the slow trail of blood trickling down his legs.

For hours he lay in the dark, waiting for the throbbing to stop and the world to slow. If only he could move... If only he could just end it. But, no; the man fed him, kept him alive, just so he could tear out another piece of his soul. Maybe it really would never be over. It wasn't like he remembered anything but this dark basement and his own thoughts, but even those slipped away each time the man fed him. Something was in his food, something to keep him weak.

He stood on quaking legs and felt the walls around him. They were smooth and unmarred, a stark contrast to his own bruised flesh. He gazed with envy at the walls and their flawless complexion. He was so dirty, so dented now. He wished he could melt into the wall's pristine surface and just be an insignificant smear. Something inside himself, though, wouldn't let him die. His enduring soul was clinging to life in his captivity. How long had it been? Months? Years, even? He should be dead. His mind was dying, but his body was kept animated by his own damned nature.

_What am I?_

He didn't feel old. In fact, he felt _young_; his body was lean, his hair thick and his lips full. It seemed like being held in captivity had only changed his hygiene, not his appearance. His will was broken, but his flesh was yet to yield.

He sat up and tried to remember, tried to think of what he was besides a mere boy. Was he something he shouldn't be? Was he something _wrong_? No, no. He felt right. Maybe he was dead. Was he in hell? He searched, _begged_ the blank slate that was his mind for answers, and for once something came.

Green grass, lush and thick.

Soft wind.

Someone's blissful laughter.

A hand running nimbly through his hair...

A great sadness.

His eyes fluttered open, returning to the present. But what was it he had remembered? Tilting his head back to rest on the damned perfect wall, it soon donned on him that he still had the makeshift gag shoved in his mouth. He tugged it out gingerly and, now free of the restraint, began to sing.

"_The vampire flees across the mountains of Romania,  
Holding a lifeless form close to its chest.  
White doves, scared to follow, in reverence,  
And fae sing their sorrow._"

What it meant, the boy chained to the wall did not know... Why did he know this song? Was it important to him? Remembering was becoming harder and harder, his consciousness fading quickly, and yet the boy did not want to forget.

"I'll write it down then," he mumbled to himself and, dragging his fingertip across the cement covered floor, he used a trail of his own blood to write down the only thing he could remember.

S... O... R... A...

OOO

"Oh, hey, we're here!" Pence said, bobbing his head agreeably. "I think something's wrong, though..."

Before Roxas was a towering white tent, gold trimming along the entrance flaps and shining golden poles holding the flowing fabric sturdy in the slight breeze. It was... magnificent. Roxas held his breath in, and resisted the sudden urge to reach out and touch the shimmering white fabric. Craning his neck forward, he let a small amount of childlike wonder slip into his face; this wasn't what he was expecting. Nodding, Roxas could only blindly reassure himself that looks could be deceiving.

"Oh!" A petite girl with dozens of honey blonde braids among her hair skittered towards them out of the golden ticket booth situated outside of the entrance. Worry was creasing her heart shaped face. "Um, we had to postpone today's show... There were some issues with setting up the tent." She shifted, darting her eyes about nervously and tugging at her blue headband. "Sorry for your inconvenience!"

Roxas cheered internally. He was going to get out of this after all! To the others it just appeared as though his eyes were glazed over in disappointment, not juvenile glee. They didn't even notice his slight smirk.

"But we _pre-ordered_ tickets!" Olette cried, hands on hips and becoming angrier by the second. "You better give us a damn fine refund if you're going to treat us like this!"

"Oh, um, well..." the girl stuttered. "I'll go get someone more prominent for you to speak with!" she squeaked and rocked herself back into the safety of the huge shimmering tent looming behind her, leaving the golden ticket booth all but abandoned.

The minutes ticked by, and Olette became increasingly more annoyed with each passing second. She flipped her hair around and swore a bit under her breath as she paced in front of the huge circus entrance.

"You know, I only said what I did for our own good, guys," she bit out. "I was just looking out for the group."

"We know you were, Olly," Pence said, showing his distaste for the situation by using Olette's long hated nickname.

"Aw, thanks, Pence!" Olette gushed, fake cheeriness returning. She greedily accepted her compliment, fake or otherwise.

Hayney grunted next to Roxas, lolling his head to the side to see if he was as ready to leave as Roxas was. Roxas slid his eyes to meet the other boy's, giving him an imploring look. Hayner rose.

"Come on, guys. Let's just get out of here. The show can't be that good."

"No!" Olette cried, wheeling around. "I went and _put myself out on a limb_ for _you_. You are not going anywhere until the bimbo comes back!" The group stared, and Roxas did his best not to smirk at the girl's slip up of personas. Today was turning out to be okay. Until, of course, the group was disrupted from their inner squabbling by a tall shadow that was cast over their huddle.

"Now, Miss. Rikku told me you had an inquiry about tickets?" The newcomer smiled, flipping his long pink hair behind himself. Roxas stared at the tall man before him, taking in the floppy layers of, well... Pink. In addition to his outlandish hair, he had the most piercing blue eyes, and skin so pale and clear it looked to be a doll's. Roxas could only sum up the man's appearance as being... Other worldly. Combined with the man's thin frame under his charcoal suit, Roxas had to wonder if the circus was feeding him.

"Oh, well..." Olette had begun to speak again in a way akin to stuttering; stuttering when Olette was in über-bitch mode was something almost unheard of to Roxas. Immediately, he flipped his head to the side to make sure it was really his friend talking.

"W-we bought tickets for your show-" Her sentence was never finished, as one slender white finger had been placed upon her lips.

"Say no more!" the man said dramatically, throwing his spare arm into the air for effect. "I shall arrange for you to have _front row_ seats at our next performance in the morrow!" His sweeping eyes connected with hers. "It is my promise." And with that the tall man bent down, placed a delicate kiss on her hand, and promptly swept himself away in steady, fast strides towards the tent.

"Ri-kku!" he sang out, "I need four _front row_ seats for these lovely customers!" And with a twirl he was gone, disappearing, like the blonde before him, into the enveloping folds of the tent in a dramatic flourish.

It was only after the flowery man's presence had disappeared that Roxas returned to looking at his friends. Pence and Hayner were dumfounded, and Olette looked like someone had just asked her to be the queen, all smiles and rosy blush. Roxas looked about in wonder. What had just happened to them? Were they just visited by an angel, or a prostitute? Before he had a chance to wonder about it any further, the aforementioned Rikku popped back out of the tent, skipping joyously towards them as if she had a new lease on life.

"Here you are, Miss and Sirs!" she chirped. "I hope to see you front and centre tomorrow night!" And with that she pivoted, and with one leap hopped onto the top of the golden ticket booth. Roxas' eyebrows shot up. _Did she just jump six feet? _he wondered mutely. He turned to his friends to ask them if what he just saw was real, but realized all too soon that they were already heading back into the bowels of the city. Roxas scurried, trying to catch up, but not before turning around one more time to see Rikku, grinning like a maniac on top of the ticket booth, give him a wink.

"Maybe the show will be more interesting than I thought," he murmured to himself, before picking up his pace again and crying, "Hey, guys! Wait up!"

OOO

Fidgeting nervously, Roxas stared at a tawny brick building. He knew that very soon he'd have to pick up his balls and walk up the icy metal stairs, through the perfectly beige lobby and finally into the wrought iron elevator that always made him sick. Not many things in the city of Hollow Bastion were iron. Copper was the preferred metal to be worked with, from piping to street poles to bar signs. The city was at least a hundred and fifty years old, so Roxas could only figure that was the reason for the gothic style buildings.

He had only been in the city for five years. He had been found abandoned at a bus stop at only thirteen years old, and Roxas often wondered what his life had been like before Hollow Bastion. Had he truly been so insignificant that someone could just leave him alone to die? He shuddered, pulling himself out of the darker thoughts he'd been stewing in and tried to pull himself back to the present day. Every once in a while he would slip into a deep pondering of his past, and his therapist had told him he should try and snap out of it as soon as possible. Sometimes, though, Roxas didn't listen and instead welcomed the thoughts that left him stuck staring numbly at the steps to his apartment as he was now.

"Boy! You're doing it again!" the doorman cried from above him. "Snap out of it, now, and come on inside where it's cooler."

Whipping his head up, Roxas hurried up the steps quicker than normal and in doing so tripped and fell hard on his knee.

"Shit," he cussed quietly, looking for blood. He was greeted with a thin purpling bruise next to a pink scar he had on his knee from a bike accident two years ago. He hated that scar, and everyone was going to see it more than ever now that it was surrounded by a bruise.

Something in the universe must have been telling him not to go into the cool serenity of the lobby. He sighed, getting up anyway and leaving the smog and humidity of mid August behind him.

Regretting passing the doorman wordlessly, Roxas turned around and gave the man a quick wave and smile, which the man dutifully returned. He could lie and smile until he was blue in the face, but Roxas could never look down on someone doing their job.

And so he headed through the damned beige lobby and shuffled towards the wrought iron elevator. And up, up, up he went, holding down his queasy feeling as he neared the place he disliked the most: home.

"Oh, there you are, sweetie!" cried an exuberant voice. "It's nice to see you back early for once! So, how was the show?"

"It got cancelled."

"Oh! Well, then, what _were_ you doing all day?" The worry and mistrust laced into the woman's voice was, for the most part, genuine (the mistrust surely so). Roxas could easily tell, however, that the woman before him was being paid for her concern. As a foster child, the Hollow Bastion Regional Justice System, Sector 3, put Roxas under the care of this woman. HBRJ paid the foster home's hosts _quite _nicely for their participation in the program. To Gloria Bakes, housing Roxas was both a money grab and a way to get her mother off her back. Roxas had discovered both things shortly after beginning his stay in her home.

Keeping him sheltered, fed and out of trouble was the least she could do to earn her monthly cheque.

"I went shopping," he said after a long pause. "I needed new shoes; you know how the black ones had holes in them?"

"Ah, right."

And so began to the nightly ritual of Roxas being quizzed on his needs and wants so Gloria could please the HBRJ. _At least I get the essential stuff_, he mused, only slightly paying attention to Gloria's 'good parenting'.

But Roxas had a secret buried deep in his heart that he would only admit in his darkest hours. He had everything he needed except the most essential thing of all: love. And this secret is what kept him up that night, staring at the blue walls of his room. He forced himself to only think about the exact shade of cerulean that decorated his walls, how they perfectly matched the new shoes that Gloria had _insisted_ they go out and buy shortly after their conversation.

"I want to make sure you have everything you need," she had explained. Oh, how Roxas knew. The only thing that Roxas saw, though, as he picked up his new, rubber-scented Chucks, was the gaping empty hole where something he _wasn't thinking about_ was supposed to be.

_Fuck_, he thought bitterly. It was times like these he could almost, just almost, remember. So Roxas curled up in his bed, surrounded by shallow memories of the past five years, clutched his new shoes, and cried.

OOO

_The world was a dark and stinky place to Roxas, sitting on a bench of torn up woof in a place quite unfamiliar to him. He glanced around, looking from dismal towers to the gritty street below him. He felt like he had just woken up, could feel nothing but the biting air of a harsh oncoming winter. Roxas could only sit quietly for a long time, looking at his breath steam and swirl in the air in front of him. Looking down to see himself in a lightweight shirt and shorts, he realised just why he was so cold. His small, prepubescent frame curled in on itself, trying to keep as warm as possible._

_He blinked at the strangers walking past him on the street. Was he supposed to know where he was? Was he supposed to be going somewhere? He looked at the sign adjacent to the bench and took in the garish letters._

'36 Loop – Counter Clockwise  
Colonial at Chartrand Cres'

_Was he supposed to know that street? He didn't know. He got up on unsteady feet and walked about the bench, feeling the need to take action and fix his current predicament but not knowing how. A loud rumble of oncoming traffic startled him from his circling, and he looked up to see a large white bus with a brilliant orange stripe painted on the side roll up next to him. The door opened, revealing a man behind a large electronic tower eyeing him expectantly._

"_Well, are you gunna get on, kid?" the guy asked in a gruff voice._

"_I... Um..."_

"_Well?" repeated the man. Roxas shifted, unsure whether to trust this burly stranger. Deciding he could easily run from the man's grasp if he had to, Roxas ventured onto the bus before him._

"_Where's your ticket?" the driver asked, irritation growing apparent in his voice. "You gunna give me a ticket or what?"_

"_Pardon?" Roxas said, panic picking up as the doors squealed shut and the bus started again, ripping him away from the only place he had familiarized himself with._

"_Oh, I get it. You got cash, right? Well, fork it over!"_

"_Um..."_

"_Come on, kid!"_

"_Where am I?"_

_The bus driver cringed – he had a very long day ahead of him after his shift._

_In the next couple of hours that Roxas spent with the bus driver (Rupert, he discovered) he realized that he truly knew absolutely nothing about anything. He barely understood what cash was._

_He sat in the chair next to Rupert and talked with him for hours. He discovered he was in a city called Hollow Bastion. He was probably somebody's amber alert, Rupert said, but he couldn't let him go until 'the end of his shift'. Roxas sat there, silent for the most part, and looked out of the window numbly. He could do nothing but take in the never ending loop of scenery as Rupert ran the bus around the track. Roxas passed Colonial at Chartrand Cres many times, each time wondering how he had come to sit on the beaten bench._

_Eventually, Rupert took Roxas to the police station, into the warm air and stifling questions presented to him by curious officers._

"_What's your name?" ...Roxas._

"_Do you really not remember?" ...Yes._

"_Are you a runaway?" He didn't know._

"_Where are you from, son?" He didn't know._

"_Can you tell us why you were on the bench?" Again, he didn't know._

_There were so many things he didn't know. The police looked at him, looked at his soft white shirt and brown shorts, and knew he was from somewhere far away. They took him in, hooked him up to lie detectors and asked him their questions again and again, but they could only decide that he was an amnesia victim. The only concern was that there were no new reports on lost children – and no old reports on lost children, for that matter – that matched his age and description._

_The case of Roxas Doe would be one that they could never solve._

_So they packed him up and sent him away to Gloria Bakes, a woman who always had glowing reviews for her foster care._

_Roxas still did not remember, but slowly he grew to make new memories. Gloria introduced him to her mother, who had cooed and coddled him before Gloria ripped him away, ending Roxas' first and last experience with familial love._

_Roxas learned about what Hollow Bastion was, what songs were popular, what stores to shop at, what 'cash' and 'bros' and 'omg' were. What Roxas learned the most about, though, were the people of the city. They were all raging, pathological liars. Roxas just wanted to know why people acted the way they did, why they wore their stupid masks of love and bravado. Why was it absolutely necessary he wore one too? He didn't want friends if he had to be this way! But, try as he might, being blunt did not bode him well in this city._

_One day, after being taken for sarcastic when telling a sales woman she looked lovely, Roxas just gave up. He fell to the seat of Gloria's car helplessly and stared at the ceiling in deep thought. If they wanted to play the lying game, then so be it. He'd be the fakest person they'd ever meet._

OOO

"Your eyes are all puffy," Olette said, plopping herself on his kitchen stool after strolling into his apartment uninvited the next morning. Roxas twitched, unwilling to state that he'd cried himself to sleep the night before.

"I was chopping onions for an omelette earlier," he said easily, faking a rowdy grin for his friend who stupidly bought his story.

"Oh! Chef Roxas!" she quipped. "How about you make _me_ one of those stellar omelettes, eh?"

Roxas cringed. He'd walked right into that one – Olette had always been a food whore.

"Ran out of eggs, sorry."

"Damn," she sighed, allowing Roxas to breath in relief of not having to cook for the girl. "Well, at least we get to go to the circus today," she continued. "I mean, _finally_. I swear, after yesterday's incident it better be a great show."

"Yeah..."

"Oh, come on! You're not backing out of it now!" Olette said, looking him straight in the eyes. "I'll drag you if I have to."

Roxas believed her.

"We have, like, an hour to get there. Maybe we should hurry up," Olette said, standing up abruptly and waltzing out into the hallway of Roxas' building. "Well? Are you coming?"

"Yeah," Roxas called unenthusiastically.

"Then off to the circus we go!" she sang.

As they made their way through the twisting streets of Hollow Bastion, Roxas dragged behind and sighed as he looked ahead. His other friends were waiting for them patiently at Collegeway and Rathburn. He wished they had been late, he wished Olette had broken her ankle getting up his apartment steps, he wished anything could have happened that allowed him to be free from the circus visit.

Unfortunately for Roxas' wishes, when the small group approached the circus ground for the second time in 24 hours, they were greeted with a much different sight than they had been the day before.

The place was... alive.

People chatted, the smell of popcorn drifted through the air, and Rikku was firmly situated in her ticket booth, selling ticket after ticket to literally hundreds of patrons.

"Hallo, guys! Good to see you came back!" she cheered, waving off Olette's hands holding the tickets and making the other girl flinch. "No need to show me those, sweet cheeks, I know for sure you got 'em!" Olette looked offended, but straightened her back and marched away to the entrance of the big top, the view of towering seating fixtures before her.

"Come on, guys!" she barked, smirking as the men before her fell in line, Roxas being the last.

"'Bye," he said to Rikku, twisting his head around to run in behind his friends who had already situated themselves in the stands.

Pence and Hayner had surrounded Olette in the very front row of the stands, dead centre to the polished platform in front of them. He squinted at the seat numbers until he found the one corresponding to his ticket and, picking himself passed a very lavishly decorated couple, he plunked himself into the seat next to Hayner's.

"Hey, man," he murmured, fixating his vision on the shining silver platform almost directly in front of him. Hayner responded with a grunt. Roxas willed himself to calm down, almost simmer, as the lights eventually dimmed and the show began.

"Hello, my dear patrons, and welcome to Kingdom Hearts – a show that is incomparable to any other!" A tall man walked out to the centre of the platform, eyeing the crowd slyly. Roxas blinked at him, seeing his own fare features in an entirely different way. The man's own blond hair was slicked back tight to his skull, blue eyes narrowed in cunning. The man smirked. "My name is Luxord, and I shall be your ringmaster for the night! I hope you enjoy the show..."

And, with that, a slender golden rope dropped beside him from the enormous tent's rafters. Grabbing on, Luxord was pulled out of view, giving the crowd one last saucy wink as he disappeared.

Immediately after the platform was emptied, the room went black. The crowd stirred, unable to decide whether this new development was acceptable. Roxas heard a whisper of, "Boring..." behind him and nodded in silent agreement.

"Ladies and gentlemen: the trapeze sisters!" Luxord's voice boomed about the room and, as his words made their final vibrations, two blinding spot lights lit up the tent. On either side of the room, far above the floor, two blonde women appeared – one was tall and extremely curvaceous while the other was short and thin. They dove to, Roxas' first thought was, their doom. Only a moment later, he gave a sigh of relief when he realized they had their hands firmly gripping trapeze bars.

And so the show went on, Roxas looking on with mild interest as girls and boys alike came out in shimmering gold and silver outfits. People did flips, stretches and magic tricks, but over halfway into the show the only thing that had remotely caught his interest was when Rikku had pranced out onto the stage.

With her braids now clustered with an assortment of colourful beads, a new shining silver headband and a tight silver bikini top, she almost didn't look like the girl he had seen earlier. The flamboyant couple Roxas had stepped over earlier also sprang to life beside him, jumping over the barrier to join the act and scaring the crap out of him. She had done a magic show, the two dark haired people acting as both her assistants and her guinea pigs. Roxas was kind of impressed, but only because he had actually met the girl beforehand.

He was sure there was nothing noticeable about the circus group, nothing that made the show 'incomparable to any other'. Roxas' face had increasingly been growing more sour with each passing act until suddenly the lights flickered on and he thought he could finally, _finally_, be done with this silly circus. To his surprise, however, it wasn't over.

"And now," Luxord's ever present voice boomed. "We have an elemental illusionist! This person had talent so great he had to be hunted down from the four corners of the earth, his element learned after centuries of practice from his predecessors!"

_Heh, so dramatic_, Roxas thought to himself, completely at ease with the fact that he knew nothing could be as spectacular as this man proclaimed it to be.

But Roxas was proved utterly wrong.

A man walked onto the platform looking completely different than any of the other performers. He wore nothing but a blue pair of swim shorts, his fair hair spiked up at a perfect 90-degree angle. His smile was wild and care-free. He just stood there for a moment, casting his wonderful grin at the crowd. Then he drew his arms up and summoned _tidal waves_ to crash and rush up either side of him.

Roxas could feel the rush of the water's currents from his front row seat and he was awed. He could do nothing but sit there and watch the man swim, command and dance with the water, glued to the way the heavy dub step temp in the background made the liquid jump and twitch with each bass roll.

_How could this be real?_ he thought in awe, a genuine smile forming on his lips as he watched the man with increasing wonder. It all ended eventually, but Roxas was left with a distinct feeling of joy from the performance. It was... beautiful.

They must have left the best act for last, as a string of performers walked onto the stage to take their final bows. To Roxas, the magicians, acrobats and contortionists had nothing great about them. He only had eyes for the waterman. They had never announced his name, Roxas realized.

Luxord was the last to arrive on the silvery stage to announce that the show was truly over and that everyone could leave. As he walked away sadly, Roxas wondered if he truly had hated the entire show. Maybe, just maybe, he should have looked at it with an open mind. But no, he had waited until the last, most spectacular act to realize how truly amazing this circus just might be.

He wished he could somehow approach these people and tell them just how wonderful he thought the show was. But instead he turned, face red, and ran to catch up with his friends. It wasn't until much later it struck Roxas – the man from the water act was looking directly at him with his glowing smile at the end of the show.

OOO

"Roxas! You're back!" Gloria cried, getting up from her perch on a stool in the apartment's kitchen.

She had been waiting for him. Roxas gulped; this couldn't end well in his eyes. He walked into the kitchen as slowly as he dared, dropping his keys on the counter with a clack.

"I need to talk to you, sweetie. Come and sit down." She readjusted herself on her own stool, as if to make a statement that he should follow. He sat cautiously, and glanced up to his guardian with an expectant look on his face.

"Yes, Gloria?" he asked politely. _What could she want now?_

"As you and I both know, your birthday's coming up in the next couple of months."

"Yes, in November."

"Well, sweetie, you'll be turning eighteen."

"...And?"

"And you'll be a legal adult then. I think it'd be in your best interest if you moved out after that, hon. I raised you to be a responsible adult these past five years. I think it's time you go out and look for a job and be on your own after that, for your own sake."

"O-okay."

Gloria smiled at this and indicated with a wave that she was done talking. With that Roxas rose, walked out of the kitchen and slumped onto his bed as it hit him.

Eighteen. A legal adult.

Gloria's cheques would stop coming once her foster child no longer needed protection under the law. _Gloria was getting rid of him_. She'd soon have her clutches in some new, younger child that she could ignore and keep to replace him.

Having no idea what was to become of him, Roxas lay on his bed for a long time and tried not to think of anything in particular. The only comforting thought about the whole situation to him at the moment was that he would not be going to bed crying. However, he had much, much bigger problems before him.

In three months he'd be homeless.

OOO

Big thanks to my Beta; ButteryflyFarie, you're the best!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Over the next few days, Roxas didn't sleep all that well. He woke up feeling groggy and examined each morning, as if he had been underneath a microscope all night instead of his covers. However, Roxas could chalk all of this up to the fact that his foster parent, his only guardian in the last 5 years, had abandoned him.

The morning after Gloria had announced her 'wonderful' idea, she had simply placed a plethora of job applications on the kitchen counter with a sticky note telling Roxas how beneficial jobs were. Roxas had promptly crumpled up the note angrily and stalked back into his room to steam. But his anger didn't last long; it soon melted into cold hard logic.

He knew Gloria was right. If the woman was going to kick him out, the least he could do was be prepared for it. So he set out, with his brand new blue shoes and a pressed golf shirt, to find a job. At first, he thought it would be easy, smile at the boss-lady, hand in a resume, and bang! Instant job. The world however, was never as simple as Roxas' black and white mind made it out to be, and he did not instantly win over the many boss-ladies with his shining smile. Once again, the city's people were part of Roxas' down fall.

As one day of job hunting turned into two and three, he was becoming more and more worried with each glance at his dwindling bank account. He stopped eating out; he stopped shopping on his own. When Gloria asked him if he needed something, Roxas never held out anymore. He was determined to suck the woman dry until he was forced out of his home on his birthday. His _birthday,_ for God's sake. Or at least his 'found day', considering they had given Roxas his birth date based on the day that he was discovered at the bus stop. Roxas was also now very, very grateful he hadn't been found in the summer months. At least he had at little more time to prepare before he was kicked out.

The stress was building up inside him; he stopped pretending to chum around with his friends, giving them the very firm excuses of 'job hunting'. At least he was free of their incessant chatter.

"If this is what I'm like after a couple days," he murmured to himself, "what am I going to be like in a couple _months_?" The answer, Roxas surely did not want to know. He needed to find a job fast, even if it was only a semi-permanent one, and he desperately needed to stock up his savings.

Unsure were to go, however, Roxas ended up leaning against a fence with Hayner, cussing out working establishments with his fellow hater.

"I just- God, man, you know what I mean?" Hayner said, kicking at the dirt and pebbles underneath his feet angrily. "So fuckin' extra." Roxas nodded, humming into his ice cream. Listening to Hayner talk was extremely funny, as the boy was far from the sharpest tack in the box.

"You hear me though, man, it's bogus you have to _work_ for your money." Hayner was also extremely rich. His dad owned several high-end electronic stores scattered throughout Hallow Bastion and the surrounding area. As much as he could connect with Roxas' anger and betrayal, he couldn't understand the value of the money the boy needed, and Roxas stewed. He knew Hayner was probably the wrong choice to hang out with when griping about money problems, but he was out of options and wanted to hear Hayner spout off more dumb lines.

"Yeah, man," Roxas said jokingly. "I wish I could have a big Daddy who owned stuff to just give _me_ cash!"

"Ha ha. Yeah," the boy said, looking at him in a kind of offhand manner. Roxas wasn't sure if Hayner had meant for his insult to hurt or not. It did, but that was against the point in a city of liars.

"Oh! Wait, man!" Hayner cried, pushing his body off of the fence in a pivot towards Roxas. "Total brilliant idea! Work at one of my Dad's stores! I mean, it might take a bit to get you in, maybe about a couple of weeks, but I could totally hook you up." He finished his sentence, giving him a satisfied look and crossing his arms. Roxas looked up back at his friend appraisingly. It was a pretty good idea.

"Yeah, that could work!" he said, slipping a more genuine grin on his face. Maybe things would be better for him now that the mess was sorted out and he could have a real job. Roxas was no idiot; he knew Hayner's dad paid his employee's well.

"Sweet," Hayner said, slipping his eye's shut in a fist pump. "You won't regret it, man! I'll get back to you in a bit, kay?" With that the taller boy rose and dashed off across the abandoned lot they had been relaxing in, and disappearing from sight around a corner.

Roxas was left alone, staring at the rubble where his friend had been sitting only moments before.

Maybe hanging out with Hayner had been a better idea than he thought.

OOO

Roxas didn't want to go home more than ever since Gloria had given him his 3-month warning. Instead, he found himself wandering around the city he had grown to hate so much. He would pass by tiny hovels of shops with their tricky, greedy merchants, and high glistening buildings covered in the token coppery piping. But with each turn of the corner and each step he took, instead of falling in love with the scenery and people, he grew to hate it even more. _When I leave,_ he mused _I'm getting out of this hellhole and _never_ coming back_.

He thought of the many places he could go once he left - he had never had really fully educated himself on the world outside of Hallow Bastion after he'd forgotten everything. But he somehow felt like the gloomy city was the centre of the world he lived in, having only the faintest thoughts of lofts, barns and cobbled streets.

He held onto those thoughts though, and raced further into the city, content on going home for the moment and researching were he would make his great escape.

As Roxas went back into the city streets, joy bubbled in his chest at the idea of being free. He decided that although Gloria was leaving him homeless, maybe it wasn't as bad an idea as he had made out to be. He had options; the obligations he held to his friends were weak compared to his newly unearthed travel lust.

The way Roxas looked at it, he could leave his old friends behind in a heartbeat. They didn't even know him well.

So he kept his thoughts churning. He'd have to find a new place to live, a new job, everything would have to be reinvented when he left. He was immediately glad that he hadn't decided to go to college in the fall, grimacing at the idea of having to wriggle out of his schooling now.

He could always apply for a school further away when he had his own place, maybe make some real friends. He truly did feel like the city he lived in was cursed and, as all these deep thoughts were being process in Roxas' head, he didn't realize he was getting deeper and deeper into the city.

Oblivious, he headed further into the rustier and darker parts of town, his head filled with ideas of a shining future. And Roxas didn't realize until he was standing outside of a garishly decorated tattoo parlour that he was truly and deeply lost. He stopped then, gulping down the sudden dread that entered his veins and made them ice over.

He was in the part of town that was always on the news. He was in gang territory. Looking at himself in the tattoo shops window, Roxas stared down his golden spikes, shiny blue eyes, and slender frame. He was all but dead if anyone questionable decided to pick on him, and he was sure someone would. Despite his money problems, dressed in Gloria's clothing he looked like nothing more than a pretty rich boy.

Roxas glanced around cautiously, breath shaky, but it seemed he was okay, maybe if he just kept on walking at the pace he was going before then he would be out of the area soon and safe in his apartment.

"Hey, kid!" a voice cried out. Roxas froze were he stood, too ridged to turn around. "Hellooo? Can you hear me?" He could hear footsteps approaching him. _This is it._ Roxas thought _Fight or flight._ And just as Roxas had gathered his wits enough to take off tearing down the streets again, someone grabbed him by the shoulder, making him wince.

"Hey, you're the kid from our show right?" Roxas turned, features visibly relaxing as he saw he was standing face to face with the man from circus earlier, pink floppy hair and all.

"Y-yeah."

"Ah-ha! I knew it! I can always remember a pretty face. I saw you from inside the tattoo parlor, thought I'd ask you how you liked the show!" Roxas was now completely at ease. He didn't know why, but he felt that with this flamboyant man people would stay away.

"Oh, it was great. Really like the water guy! How'd he even do that? Amazing," Roxas said, and the man's grin grew wider at the last compliment.

"You liked Dem? I'll have to tell him that," he said with a laugh. "Or better yet…you want to tell him that yourself? I'm heading back to the big top now if you wanna tag along." He seemed elated to offer, and much more calm than when had had been wooing Olette.

"That'd be great, actually," Roxas said, smiling _real_ smiles for this almost-stranger. "I'm actually kind of lost right now."

"You don't say," the taller man said. "And here I thought you were a local."

"Well, I am," Roxas conceded. "I just…don't venture into this part of town often. It's dangerous. What're you even doing here?"

"I was sent to do an errand for a friend."

"…At a tattoo parlor?"

"Yeah. You could say that."

And so Roxas followed the flowery man out of the vast, hazardous streets and into the safer parts of town. His mission to go was home all but forgotten.

And As they walked, the two strangers talked to one another. Roxas learned that the tower of a man was actually called Marluxia, and he was the costumier of the circus.

"Guess that explains why you weren't on stage," Roxas joked.

"Oh no," Marluxia said, shaking his head merrily. "I have an act too; I just wasn't in the rotation the night you visited. We clump our performers into three different groups and rotate them every night so the show isn't always the same."

It was then that Roxas realised he had missed far more than he had thought. Maybe there were more people just as amazing as 'Dem'. Bowing his head down, Roxas wished desperately that he had grabbed one of the circus' flyers. Or insisted to Olette they go again. But it was too late to ask her now, and he could only hope to scoop one off his bubbly friend later.

Time passed quickly next to Marluxia and soon they had arrived at the circus once more. Roxas could see the pure white fabric of the tent drifting lazily in the midday sun long before they reached the entrance to the tent. But then he paused. The place was deserted and with the lack of people around the grounds hours before the show he felt like he was intruding in a sacred place, somewhere he shouldn't be.

"I think I'll just go now," he said quickly. "Thanks for leading me out of danger, but really, I should just go." He glanced quickly up to his companion in apology.

"But, I thought you wanted to meet Dem…" Marluxia trailed off sadly. "Don't you want to at least say hi? It'll take two seconds." He turned abruptly and yanked open the front of the tent. "DEMYX!" he screamed inside.

Roxas quickly felt the queasiness that a child feels before meeting their idol, like they didn't want to be let down, and instead of handling it like a rational, soon-to-be adult, Roxas acted like the child he felt he was. He bolted, leaving the circus grounds behind and heading, with a clear head this time, directly home.

Marluxia watched him go sadly, hearing Demyx's footsteps fall behind him.

"What's up?" the blonde asked cheerily, before spotting the fleeing boy. "Oh…"

"Yeah, I'm sorry man."

OOO

"Sora," the boy said to himself, alone in the darkness of his prison. "Sora, Sora, Sora." It was all he could say since he had remembered. The name brought with it many things for the boy as it came to his lips, one of them being questions.

With the break in his memory he had been sniffing his meager supplies of food, trying to determine if there was anything amiss. He found nothing every time, but as he ate his food he kept of his steady mantra of 'Sora'. He felt weaker these days, as if trying to hold onto that one word used all his strength. That and, of course, pleasing his keeper. It seemed the man came more and more often, grinding the boy into the icy floor, and leaving his body covered in bleeding scrapes from the friction.

So, he would lie awake, in too much pain to even move, feeling drunk with blood loss and starvation, but still managing to mutter that one word.

"Sora."

His chant of it being over had been dead in his throat long ago, but as long as he could keep himself _just_ sane enough, he was sure he could out live his captor. He was positive he would be able to escape.

The boy also did not remember anything more. He tried to sing again, tried to close his eyes and picture something, as he was so sure he'd done before. But nothing more ever came. No more magical lyrics, no more words scribbled hastily in his own blood when inspiration took hold of him. He wasn't sure he could even lift his fingers anymore - every once in a while he gave a mild twitch, only to give up again when that was all he could manage to do.

And it would have possibly stayed like that forever, the boy dryly whispering his only word, and his captor swooping in to have his fill with him whenever he felt the fancy to do so. Until one day his keeper made a fatal mistake.

Excited from the adrenalin pumping through his body, the man heaved his final breath, riding out the joy of his orgasm on the body below him. He stopped, made one final swipe of his brow, and left the boy he'd just had his way with to regain his labored breathing. Content, he pranced over to the door, not giving a glance backwards for his captives well being. He knew it couldn't die.

So he left, slamming the door triumphantly behind him, patting himself on the back for successfully breaking his boy in. And as he walked along the path back to his car he was only mildly irritated when he felt a sudden tug at the bottom of his coat, he turned, noticed it caught in the door and gave it a sharp tug to pull it free. With his only obstruction in his path gone, he drove off blissfully unaware.

Unaware that his coat had pulled the door open.

Unaware that the falling rain had awoken his prisoner.

Unaware that the boy's shackles were long broken.

And the man remained unaware, until the next day when he returned to the little shack that he had been keeping his boy in. Fully ready for another go, he would stop and realize that for the first time in over five years he would have to deal with his own arousal.

OOO

There was nothing quite like waking up early for Roxas. He would stretch and yawn and cuss until he was sure he wasn't going back to sleep. He knew, however, that it was better than getting up late and having to talk to Gloria about how the job was going. It wasn't. Hayner had become elusive, he wasn't picking up his cell, and he wasn't home. Yet Roxas somehow knew the blockhead was going to pull through for him. So he had stopped looking around for different places to take him in, and figured that it was a done deal.

So Roxas had done something that in retrospective was very, very stupid: he had told Gloria that he already had a job. So now Roxas had to get up early every week day and 'go to work' until Hayner told him he actually had a place to go to. And Roxas hated, hated doing this.

The city, however appealing it was to tourists, held no appeal to him personally. He didn't want to waste any money either, so he was left wandering around the streets of Hallow Bastion listlessly.

And he was so caught up in grumbling about his own sad, sad existence that he didn't seem to notice when his feet took him along a familiar path.

Roxas was instantly disgusted with himself when he found that he was staring directly at the shimmering white fabric of the big top. He glanced around, hoping that no one had seen him staring at the tent like it was the answer to everything, and closed his eyes in gratitude when he found himself alone. Or…he had thought he was alone.

"Hey, Roxas!" a cheery voice called out to him. _Oh, shit, _he thought miserably._ I wasn't alone_.

"Hellooo? Rox-as? That is your name, right? That's what Marly said it was, at least." Roxas turned around to see Rikku perching on the ticket booth as if she had never left it ten days before. "Hey!" she cried in greeting when she caught his eyes. "'Sup, Blondie? Why are you here?"

"I, well, I was just wandering around town."

"Oh, yeah. Marly said you do that too," Rikku said, tipping her head back. "So… you wanna hang out?" Seeing Roxas' skeptical gaze she laughed, "Oh, come on! The show's not for another five hours, I'm bored."

"I don't know…" he said, shifting easily from foot to foot. Why he couldn't just lie his way out of this situation, he didn't know. But as he looked up at the girl's eyes, he felt like he didn't need to lie to her like he lied to everyone else in the city. After thinking about it, Roxas realised that talking to Marluxia had been the same way. Huh.

"Please? Please? Please? Pleeease?" Rikku begged, hopping down _6 feet_ to come to his side, hanging off his arm sadly and pouting at him. Roxas twitched, unaccustomed to...hyperactivity.

"F-fine."

"Oh, my god! Yay!" she cheered, pumping her fist in the air in an eerily similar way to Hayner. Roxas could tell, thought, that the only thing those two shared was hair colour. "Come on!" she quipped, "Let me show you the reeeal circus."

And with that Rikku promptly dragged him to the big top, and Roxas was horrified. Were the people inside going to accept him? Or would they simply tell him to get out, tell him that he wasn't welcome?

But, it quickly became apparent that the people of the circus didn't give a damn about anything he did. Rikku apparently had a strange habit for asking random strangers to hang out with her, because with each person he passed they hardly gave him a second glance. Or even a first. They did, however, run into Marluxia, who they found muttering darkly to himself as he hunched over a sewing machine.

"Her Mar-mar! Guess what I fooound?" the girl teased.

"…The tooth fairy?" the man replied, the sound of fatigue and frustration apparent in his voice.

"No," she replied, drawing her voice out playfully.

"…Axel?" The man sounded hopeful this time. But Rikku just laughed at him, filling the room with the exuberant noise.

"Like I could find him," she snorted.

"Listen, Rikku, if you don't tell me what you found, so help me I'll-" And then Marluxia finally laid his eyes upon Roxas. His back straightened, and he pulled his hair quickly out of his face. "Hey there."

"Hey," Roxas chuckled.

"So, uh. You're what Rikku found?" Marluxia eyed the boy before him, utterly surprised to see him in the confines of his working room.

"Yeah," Roxas said, feeling incredibly uncomfortable in front of the taller man.

"Yep, well, gotta show him the rest of this place! Byeee!" Rikku giggled, reattaching herself to Roxas' arm and once again dragging the boy against his own free will. Once out of Marluxia's sight, Rikku dropped his arm and spun Roxas right into the chest of yet _another _person. Roxas was getting the distinct feeling Rikku was messing with him for kicks.

"Meet Dem," she said, before disappearing from Roxas' grasp.

"Wha'?" Roxas cried before turning back to the person he'd been shoved into. "Sorry about that."

"It's cool man, it's obvious Rikku's up to her tricks again." The chest chuckled, and Roxas looked up to see the face behind the words. He met glowing sea green eyes and a magnitude of spiky blonde hair pointing skywards.

"Oh, my god," Roxas breathed out. "You're that water guy."

"Well, I prefer Demyx, since it's my name and all," he said, rubbing the back of his head. He seemed almost… embarrassed. "But, yeah, that's me. What are you? A fan-boy?"

"Not exactly," Roxas said, titling his head down and blushing. "I just thought your act was really, really incredible."

"So, a fan-boy," Demyx said, grinning at the look of horror on Roxas' face. "Take it easy kid, I'm only Joshing ya."

"Oh," Roxas said daftly. He was such an idiot sometimes.

OOO

Demyx had no idea what to do with the kid in front of him; he had a feeling Rikku had planned their meeting the entire time, the wench. But staring down at the small blonde kid was a whole different experience than performing in front of him. Before, Demyx had _literally_ been in his element. But seeing the cute kid blush and stutter in front of him was not. He blessed his lucky stars that he was in the rotation the night he visited.

"So, what's your name?" he asked, hoping that maybe learning the boy's name might miraculously break the ice.

"Roxas," the boy mumbled, looking at his blue converse with enraptured attention.

"Hey, it's cool, Roxas. Don't freak out, okay? Rikku was just being Rikku. Chill." And the boy in front of him just stared up, his face fading back to normal colouring, and then scoffed.

"Yeah, your right," he said, slipping on a more at ease demeanour. "See ya." And Roxas turned his heel to simply walk out of the big top.

"Wait!" Demyx cried. He couldn't let go of Roxas just yet; he'd only just meet him. Roxas turned back around with an expectant look on his face. "You said you liked my act, right? Want to see a bit more?" Demyx was rewarded with a wide grin from his companion.

"Sure."

And so he led the kid further into the various rooms of the big top, hoping that Roxas wouldn't notice it seemed bigger on the inside than the out. Finally, they reached a deep corner of the tent, a room used for nothing but practice space. A couple of buckets were strewn about the floor, along with some mats and cushions used for the acrobats. Demyx easily scooped up one of his buckets of water, and waved a hand to one of the cushions for Roxas to sit down. The kid had glanced at him for only a moment before situating himself on one of the cushions primly. He sunk into it clumsily moments later with a small 'ump!' of surprise.

Demyx grinned; he hadn't exclusively shown his talents to someone so clueless exclusively in a long time.

"This," Demyx started, settling himself onto the ground in front of Roxas, "is my only tool." With that he dropped his hands into the bucket, drawing out heaps of water with him to swirl lazily around his rising hands.

"How're you even doing that? Luxord said you were an illusionist, not magic!" Roxas said, clamouring over his almost disjointed limbs from the cushion. _Shit_, Demyx thought.

"Well," he started out carefully. "Luxord is also a terrible, terrible liar - in the fact that he's good at it, that is. I'm a magician."

"Oh," Roxas said with a blink. "Still. How do you do it?" To that Demyx leaned back and laughed. Didn't this kid know anything about show biz?

"A magician never reveals his secrets," he breathed dramatically. "It's the first rule of a good act." Roxas looked disappointed at that, then slightly bitter.

"Yeah. I guess even circus folk are liars." Roxas gave a tired sigh, unaware of the negativity that was seeping out of him. Demyx blinked at the sudden change in demeanour. The boy had become jaded so quickly and he felt the need to change Roxas' mind.

"Here, here," he sang out, making the other boy look up as he grabbed his hands. "I'll show you something cool then." And with that Demyx twisted Roxas' hands about, allowing them to shade and shift the water still drifting through the air. Roxas' face grew soft, and Demyx couldn't help but smile at the kid's wonder.

"Better?" he whisper. The moment, with the silence thick in the air, was stopping him from talking any louder than a hushed tone.

"Yeah…that was really cool," Roxas mused. "Thanks." He looked Demyx right in the eyes and sky blue met sea green. Demyx had no idea how to handle the situation anymore, and as he watched his water drift further up into the air, he realized he was still holding Roxas' wrists loosely. All he could think of doing was bringing his water back before he lost his hold and drenched them both. He released Roxas' hands quickly, and with a flick of his wrists let the water came pouring back into the bucket.

"Heh," he said, laughing awkwardly beside the boy. Roxas looked at him in an unreadable way, and flopped back onto the cushion. Demyx followed suit.

"So, Rikku told everyone she picked up some kid wandering around. Any reason you're just walking about the streets of this huge city?"

"Ah ha. Yeah, there is, but it's a long story," Roxas confessed, face heating up again.

"I've got time," Demyx said, rolling over to face his companion.

"Well, um. Long story short: I needed a job, my friend said he'd give me one, and then he disappeared. I'd already told my guardian I had gotten a job though, so I'm forced out of my house each day to go to my 'job' and just end up walking around. It's kinda pathetic actually." Demyx wondered at 'guardian' instead of parent, but decided he wouldn't ask. He was surprised this kid had such a good reason to be wandering around the grounds, though. Some people thought he was just a puppy dog fan.

"I have to say," he replied, shuffling a bit on the cushion and battling his way out of its deep embrace. "That really bites, man. I didn't have a job at your age."

"Ha. How much older than me could you possibly be, anyway?" Roxas laughed and Demyx grinned in response. If only he knew.

"21," he replied.

"Yeah, see, that's like… what, three years older than me? Don't act like an old man!" He was stretching and dragging himself out of the cushion as well. Their moment of silence was over.

"Yeah, yeah," Demyx sang out. "Just remember to stay off my grass, whipper snapper!" Roxas laughed, pulling himself further into the folds of the tent, and out of the hidden practice chamber.

OOO

When Roxas appeared back at his apartment a few hours later, for the first time in a long while he felt like he hadn't wasted his entire day. He felt lighter talking to someone who wasn't his awful city friends and he felt like he didn't have the weight of debt of his shoulders. Roxas might have even stayed in his blissful state a bit longer if he hadn't walked right into the kitchen to see Gloria sitting there, looking at him ready to speak.

"Oh, Roxas! I'm so glad you're home! How's your new job?" _Oh, god,_ he cringed. He had no imagination for this stuff.

"It's…it's good," he managed to bite out awkwardly, laughing a bit at the end.

"Oh, that's good, sweetie. Listen, I wanted to talk about your situation a tad more, maybe over dinner?" She was so sugar sweet in the way she said it, that Roxas could feel more bad news looming over her with every word. He panicked.

"Yeah, I _would,_ but I've got plans for dinner. Sorry!" He could see Gloria's face fall, and he quickly launched himself into the hallway before the woman could say anything else.

_Great, now I have to leave the house again._ Roxas scooped up a sweater randomly off the end of his bed, and ran back out of his apartment. Back into the city. He rubbed his face tiredly; he'd have to buy dinner for himself again. Great.

The thought of food, however, cheered Roxas up substantially and he headed off with a little more joy in his step with thoughts of his favourite burger joint in his mind. Nothing was better to lighten a teenage boy's mood than the thought of A&W.

He thought back to his last few moments with Demyx in the circus as he walked the well tread path to A&W. The man was an enigma to him, cheerful and humble, yet talented and confident. But most of all it was the man's words that bothered Roxas. He had offered him something he hadn't been expecting as he left.

"_If you need a job, why not work for us for a bit?" Roxas had only stared at him, unimpressed. "Come on, think about it! We're always short on help when we do shows for a city this big. It's convenient, and you get moooney!"_

"_I dunno."_

"_Just… Just think about it. It'd only be for the month or so until we move on, but…" _

_Roxas had stared a Demyx for a solid 30 seconds, wondering if it was a good idea to work for circus folk. He couldn't help but feel intrigued, though. All the people within this tent were so different. So… odd._

"_I'll think about it."_

When Roxas finally arrived at A&W he was still at a total loss for what to do or say to Demyx. As he ordered his combo, he decided he would leave well enough alone. He'd just have to wait and see how desperate he got. But it _was_ only a month, and it might help him not get mugged walking around Hallow Bastion all day. He kicked a corroded pipe, shoving the rest of his onion rings into his mouth.

It was time to find Hayner. Roxas looked in all the punks' favourite places, the first being the dry old abandoned lot that he and the other boy had been sitting in only days before. Roxas spied his abandoned ice cream stick, alone in the lot. Eating ice cream had always been a familiar sensation to him, like he could remember. Tossing the thought aside he picked up the left over garbage and placed it into a bin on his left.

Looking out over the dry old lot, Roxas felt so empty. He was a lone kid, with some people he could barely call friends, living with a woman he barely knew or liked. He sat down, not minding if the dust and dirt dug into his pants and not minding how dirty his hair got as he lay in the middle of the lot. He must look homeless, he thought distantly, but Roxas simply didn't care. He was far too caught up in the swirl of utter helplessness at his own fate. He knew he should get up, dust off and return to his hunt for Hayner, but he felt cemented to the ground, like all at once he couldn't move.

When he finally lifted his hands, Roxas felt the ice-cold rush of wind whip around him. He shivered, pulling his plain black hoodie more tightly around himself. When had it gotten so cold? He didn't know, but as he felt the breeze pick up, his nose getting pink from the sudden bite, he knew it wasn't normal weather for August. Getting up off the ground Roxas was just about to turn and head for home when his phone when off, nearly making him jump at the sudden noise.

"_I went for work today, I'm spill-_" Roxas jabbed the green phone button on his cell quickly, instantly awoken from his contemplations.

"Hello?" he asked inquisitively into the other line.

"Hey, Rox. It's Hayner."

"Oh, thank god. I was wondering where the hell you went."

"Yeah, well. My dad found my stash, got in huge shit _and_ I had to go get some more." Hayner was a huge pothead; his big business daddy couldn't be pleased with it. though. "Anyways, Dad isn't so happy with me right now, ya know?"

"Yeah, well. Duh," Roxas said, rolling his eyes. Only Hayner would state the obvious like that.

"_Anyways_. I asked him about the job for you, right? Flat out turned me down. Said any friends of mine had to be no good. So yeah so-" The line went dead as Roxas hung up. He stormed out of the abandoned lot, clenching his phone in his hands so hard he was sure it would snap.

One move, one dumb move, and Roxas was now completely out of options. He had been counting on Hayner, and the dumb ass had completely let him down. Now had no more job options! He was screwed!

Except… _"If you need a job, why not work for us for a bit?"_ Demyx. The circus. Maybe he wasn't completely out of luck after all. So Roxas turned and started walking in the opposite direction, towards the big top.

He raced over the uneven ground, hopped over the 'do not enter' sign, and marched right past a very confused Rikku.

"Hello? Roxas? Hellooo? Can I help you with something? Are you still mad about earlier? Look, I'm sorry, okay?" But Roxas only turned, stopping abruptly and making Rikku bump into him.

"I guess you can help me," he said, the burning anger from Hayner still bubbling over the surface of is words dangerously.

"Huh? Help you with what? What do you need?" Rikku stared at him, apprehension written on her face. She was looking nervously at Roxas, seeing a sharp, dangerous look in his eyes. "Roxas?"

"Help me send in my application."

OOO


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

_Three boys laughed together in a meadow, the world around them silent, dreamy. _

"_You know, I think I like just being here with you guys." The smallest said, reaching his hands out happily for his freinds, holding them._

"_Me too. I don't care what everyone else says, we could totally just stay here forever!" The two laughed together, cuddling. _

"_Yeah, and make forts, and sing, and just lay on the grass all day long!" _

"_You two are crazy. You know you can't do that." The tallest said, rolling in the grass lazily, looking at the other two with an easy laugh. _

"_But it would be so much fun, just think of all the things we could do if we weren't tied down by responsibilities." One brother piped up. _

"_Yeah! We'd be free."_

"_Do you really want to be free guys? Cus that could mean no one could take care of you." The older pointed out._

"_But you would. If we stay together, we'll be okay!" _

"_Yeah, yeah! Let's all run away together someday!" _

"…_Okay, but we have to stay together." The boys clamoured up to one another, tiny fists clenching one another hands, laughing. _

"Roxas! Are you awake yet?" Roxas allowed his eye's to flutter open reluctantly, clinging to his lost thoughts. He was greeted with the deep red of the wall he had been staring at over his therapist shoulder before being put under.

"Yeah. Now I am."

"And how was it? Do you remember anything I walked you through?"

"No. Not this time."

"Next time then." It was always next time for Roxas, he could never seem to recapture his past, time after time he was put under and time after time he awoke with no new information. This man was neither help with his past or his present.

"So Roxas, how've you been lately?"

"Okay, I guess."

"You guess? Any insight to why you're not sure your okay?"

"I don't know, just, living."

"Haha, well that's good. Not in the past I hope?"

"What? No, no, thinking about my future actually."

"Well that's a good place to be looking. We all know how you get when you try and do things you not _capable_ of."

"I could remember if I wanted!"

"Sure you could. I think that's enough for this session." Roxas squealed out of his chair, grumbling threateningly to himself as he left the reception office. Weren't therapist thought to make you feel better about yourself? His was just an asshole. But what was he to expect if he had a good therapist maybe he wouldn't be seeing him 5 years after he meet him.

It was exasperating, not know anything, but when he simply tried to push through, he found himself only getting more dejected. However, he firmly refused to give up. Someone somewhere had to have loved him, had to have thought something of him. Because no matter how he got onto the bus bench he felt that somewhere down the line he'd had a family. He knew waking up in the heart of the night with a smile on his face meant something. He hoped.

Sometimes, Roxas heart would twinge, randomly and quickly, and then it would just stop. The feeling had dulled recently though, being left at more of a dreary thud in his chest. However, he had more important things to deal with most of the time other than heartache. He had a job.

OOO

Demyx paced around his room nervously. He'd hired Roxas without much dithering, but had totally forgotten to clear it with the higher ups. One thing Demyx really, really loathed was authority. He didn't care how long he lived he would never get used to having to report to someone and explain his idea and thought in a manner that made sense to anyone but himself.

So Demyx was considerably nervous to discuss his new hire to Luxord. As he walked down the hallways he began to sweat, _what if he says no?_ By the time he reach the ringmasters room, he was in panic. He saw the man sitting calmly at his desk, flipping through a book and had to steel himself for what he was about to do.

"Heeey Luxord, can I talk to you for a sec? I mean, probably more than a sec, but you know how it is. Haha. Yeah, anyways. Conversation?" The blonde man looked up, giving him an amused look, and motioned him into the room.

"Yes, Demyx?"

"Would it be okay if I hired a kid to work here for a bit?" The man's eyebrow's rose.

"And whom would this be?"

"Um, Roxas, this kid from the show a few days back, he really needs a job an-"

"Wait." Luxord started, thoroughly cutting off the other "The little fair-haired one from the front row?"

"Y-yeah. How'd you know?"

"Just had a feeling. Yeah, go ahead and hire him."

"Great! Thanks! I think I finally found the one!"

"Thank god for that. You've had to many flase starts."

"Yeah…" Demyx did not stay in the other man's compartment much longer fleeing to more communal parts of the tent to tell his friends that yes, he had gotten permission. The man left in the room however, was not as joyous. He did nothing but slant his chair back, allowing himself to think about the small blonde boy he had just registered for temporary service. Something was off about the kid, half completed.

He got up and idly drifted towards a hefty bookcase he always has set up in the exact same place at every site. Grabbing a large wide book he paged throughout the tiny typed pages. While Demyx played with his new friend, he was determined to find out what was wrong with him.

"What cha doing?" A voice broke him from his deep absorption on the pages.

"Oh, finally decided to appear Axel?"

"Well, I needed to come back eventually, right? Anyways, why do you have that old tome out, trying to find out the perfect way to kill somebody?"

"No, rather I'm trying to bring them back to life." Axel smiled, interesting.

OOO

The mornings weren't getting any easier for Roxas, but at least now he truly had somewhere to be going, and that thought alone was a comfort. So when he got up the next day after his exhausting therapy session, he felt better than ever. He picked his clothes, packed his bag and took off with out being even slightly fazed by Gloria.

Refreshing.

Consequently Roxas wasn't surprised with himself when he greeted Demyx with a grin. It was uncommon for him, but somehow, seeing the man had brought a smile to his face. "Hey" He called out happily, unsure whether to walk up to the man in front of him or not. He settled for an awkward half wave, as cool as Demyx was, he wasn't sure if he was comfortable around the man quite yet. "So um, what am I going to do exactly?" "Oh, ha ha, right! Namine's going to show you the ropes of temping!" Demyx grinned, swinging his arm around a petite blonde girl who walked up to them. "Hi there." She said, nodding her head in his direction. "Hey." Roxas said meekly, he had kind of wanted to work with Demyx. "So let's go then," she chirped, lopping her arm with his, guiding him into the big top. Roxas turned his head back, only to see Demyx waving has hands happily at them and turning around to go into town. Roxas did a double take on the slender girl tugging him along, she looked sort of similar. Namine was very good at everything circus, she knew how to wash the stands until they shined, how to work the ticket printer, how to heave out a mop and scrub the platform until it glowed. Roxas could only stand by as an onslaught of information was fired at him. By the end of his training he was both exhausted and enlightened. As they stood on the countless rows of seats double checking if there was any garbage left behind from the previous show, it donned upon him. Namine was the girl from the opening act the night he had gone to see the circus. "Namine?" He asked, looking up to see the girl turn her head questioningly. "Yes?" "Aren't you from the circus' performance? Why are you doing this menial labour with me? How do you even know about it?" "Oh, I've been with the circus a long time. I know pretty much everything there is to know." "But you can't be older than me, how could you be here very long?" "Try I was born into it." She said, turning back to her task leaving a very confused Roxas staring at her back. Wasn't there some law preventing that? Was Roxas working for a dirty establishment? Oh shit. "I don't think that's legal…" Namine turned around again, this time exasperated. "Roxas, I don't think you really understand the inner workings of this place. It's for people who don't belong. Me and my sister, we didn't belong. My mother brought us here, were happy. So please, stop trying to figure things out because there's to much stuff I can't even answer for you because I'd get in trouble." Roxas just looked at her. "Please." What could he say to that? OOO By the end of the day Roxas wasn't sure if he could stand being around the place anymore. The more people he asked questions to, the more questions he got. The circus was strange, the people were strange, and he hadn't seen Demyx all day. His shift was over, and he could do nothing by wander into the folds of the tent, hoping to find him in his secret practice location somewhere behind the thick folds. The further in he got, however, the more lost he became. He was worried. Maybe he should just try and turn around quickly and get the hell out of this place before he went insane. He would have too, if not for hearing voices. "Hello?" He called out, hoping someone could hear him in the tent easily. He heard a soft 'I'll see you later!' and knew his only potential saviors were heading the opposite way. "HELLO?!" He tried again, beginning to panic. "…anyone there?" A voice called back. "Yeah, yeah there is! Um, I'm a temp and I lost my way and I'd totally be grateful if you could…" His sentence died in his throat as he saw a tall, _tall_ man come out of the folds of the tent. But his tallness was not what made the blonde mute; it was the man's mane of fiery pointy red hair. His eyes, which Roxas were staring into, were venom green with small tattoo's underneath. What was up with the circus and freakily handsome skinny guys? Maybe the circus really wasn't feeding its occupants. He hadn't seen one fat person yet. "You okay there kid? You said your lost?" "Uh. Yeah right. Is that your natural hair colour?" He blurted, reddening at what had just spilled from his mouth. The man before him just smiled, and dropped his pants. He was indeed a natural red head, and so was Roxas' face at this point. "Oh my god." His hands whipped up to his face to cover his eyes. The natural red head howled. "Oh my god, you should have seen your face! Seriously, what are you, 50?" "Wait. What?" Roxas pulled his hands down, relived to see the red head had pulled his pants up. "Why say old? Aren't old people comfortable wit nudity?" "That's pretty young man." The man laughed, slapping Roxas' back, seeing the other's look of confusion however, his face sobered. "Shit wait. You don't get it. Fuuuck, did you say you were a temp?" Roxas nodded silently. "Fuck. Uh, forget what I said, hey you wanna see the show tonight? I'm IN it! Yeah, come on, I'll give you a good seat." Roxas allowed him self to be pulled somewhere yet again, wondering once more about what just happened with the circus people. He didn't stop his contemplation until he was dragged to the big top's main room and was plunked on a chair. "You okay here?" The man glanced behind him anxiously "Yeah, you look fine." He gave Roxas a final slap on the back, and hustled back down the stairs, nearly knocking over a poor old couple in his hurry. Roxas looked down to the floor to see the red head approach what Roxas assumed was Namine's sister. He saw the man flap his arms about, point directly at Roxas, then shake his head. The woman in front of him sighed heavily, than backhanded him. The red head threw his arms out angrily, but after being kneed in the groin, slumped away. The woman the turned, and looked Roxas _right_ in the eye, smirked, and then turned herself to stock behind the curtain. Roxas raised his brow, were they arguing about him? Staring at the place were the two had been Roxas could only run the facts through his head again. Had they really been arguing about him? Better yet, he had to hunt down and _kill_ that bastard. Who the hell did he think he was? Kill kill kill. Roxas was sure he would have kept on the same thought line until the next day if it weren't for the fact that the light's dimmed, and he realized he was at another show. He watched with more rapt attention this time, trying not to be a brat and ruin the experience like he had for himself the last time. Just like Marluxia had said, it was a completely different show, right down to the ringmaster. Instead, a willowy woman with gray hair and multiple piercings walked on stage with a stoic look on her face. Her delivery was different, and Roxas could have sworn she gave everyone chills when see introduced the first act. She introduced herself to the audience as Paine. The contortionist had different name, props; even the costume colours and styles were altered. People were doing stage combat, acro dancing…there were almost no talents repeated from the last show. Roxas had to double-check it was the same place. One thing that did not change, however, was the finale. The lights still flickered on and he still heard Paine's confident voice telling people about what a rare and unusual find elemental illusionists were, only one thing had been altered. The obnoxious red head from before stepped on stage. The outfit he was wearing was completely different from the jeans and t-shirt he's be wearing earlier, instead he had on silken billowy pants and a flowing top with pooling long sleeves, all a gorgeous golden orange with crimson lining and delicate flowing circle pattern in the same colour. He bowed to the audience, stretched his hands out and free from the sleeves, and set flames burning just over the surface of his palms. Roxas could only stare numbly at the miraculous show of floating, stretching, expanding fire. The guy laughed the entire time, always coming just close enough to the flame to make people gasp before avoiding it by either bending the flames away or extinguishing them completely. How could an asshole that _flashed a minor_ be this talented? Roxas boiled; the douche bags always had all the talent. He eyed the woman's purse he been plunked next to. Maybe he wouldn't be so cool if he had an object hammered at him. But no. He had to work for the rest of the circus, and he couldn't do that if the idiot screwed up after being beaned and burned the place down. Oh well, maybe later when he wasn't near flammables. OOO The night was cold, the rain pelting down from the heavens harder than the boy could handle. He was still weak from his captivity, but the mild summer water allowed himself to snap out of the haze that always seemed to hang over his mind. And he ran. The boy tripped over the pavement, scurrying past the shrubbery adorning the yard. Free, he had to be free. There was a muggy wind whipping at him from the south, he followed it, fighting its nasty bite. If it were hotter, it was must be from a completely different place than he was now. All he wanted to do was get away from his current haunt. He ran for hours, once and awhile having to pick himself up off the slippery ground and keep on going. _I have to live_. Soon a harbor large and deep stretched before his gaunt fingers, he cried; tears mixing with the rain in a messy blur. He saw nothing in the harbor but a huge pillar of water and debris heading towards him. The boy threw his head back, and laughed through his tears, straightening and flinging himself into the waiting water below. Wherever the sea took him must be better than what he had here. Lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating him for the first time in years. He lost consciousness, letting the wind take him into the hurricane. Next time he woke up, he'd be free. OOO The next couple of weeks went fast for Roxas, he cleaned, he worked for the circus, and he avoided Gloria as best he could. At his job he never really saw the red head around much, after their second meeting he was beginning to think the man was ignoring him. He had stalked into the circus the next day, steaming. He had a mission, and it was a seek and destroy on flame-o. When he had found the man lounging on a couch talking to the curvy blonde from the other night he ducked behind a tent flap. How to seek his revenge? Staring at the ground hard for a few minutes, he studied the floor; it was covered in a tarp that shimmered faintly in the indoor lighting. Nothing was really sitting around except a rather saucy pair of panties, which Roxas gently shoved away with his toe, blushing. He also saw one of Demyx's buckets. Perfect. Grabbing it quickly, he ran up to the red head, allowing some of the water to slosh over his leg a bit. "This is for flashing me asshole!" He screeched, flinging the bucket of water over the man. He sat there blinking for a minute, and Roxas turned promptly and stalked away. The only thing he could hear besides dripping was the blonde woman's hysterical laughter. Thinking back, he wasn't sure why he did it, but what was done was done and the bastard wasn't even man enough to come and face him afterward. So Roxas continued on with his work, the day's in august usually cooled substantially into the late months of August, and soon Roxas was wearing jeans to work. This not only made bending down to clean the stands a _bitch_ but Demyx was always twittering around him to enjoy the remnants of summer, to wear shorts and tee's. As much as Roxas liked Demyx, he couldn't see the profit and freezing his ass of walking home at night. Roxas also made a few friends in the big top, there were 21 people in the whole group, and the more sociable one's would often walk up to him and chat. Larxene, Roxas found out, was the curvy blonde he'd found hanging around. A couple of hours after Roxas soaked the red head she came up and slapped him on the back, _hard_ and told him what he did was possibly the best thing she'd ever seen. She also said if he ever did it to her she'd skin him, Roxas was wary of her. He also meet Ventus, who looked startilingly like him, and his friends Terra and Aqua. Marluxia also turned out to be a trip. In the sense that the more he talked to the man, the crazier he seemed. He made all the costumes for the circus, but left his for last, _always_ even if he performed before the other people. When Roxas asked why, Marluxia would only reply in the most cryptic ways. Mumbling things about 'messing with his flow' or 'good karma leads to quicker discovery'. The man was weird, but Roxas discovered when he was hunched over his sewing machine the man would answer almost any question, even the one's he would typically avoid. They never made much sense though, mostly he say he had plenty of time left? It was like he was convincing himself of something, either way he wasn't getting much information from the man. All and all Roxas liked the circus folk, they were eccentric and didn't give shit about how crazy they seemed to others. And when Larxene went out in the middle of the night piss drunk with a tazor they were just lucky all the seemed was odd. He wished he could open up to them more, but every time he went to open his mouth and talk about himself, he stopped. What if they were just pretending to like him? After all, he _was_ just a temp. As much as they played, pantsed people and drank, he couldn't shake a gleam of dishonesty from some of the things they said. Eventually, Roxas looked at the calendar and saw that it was almost the end of the month. The circus was leavening in a few days. He wasn't sure weather to laugh of cry; they had been both a pleasure to enjoy and a headache to figure out. He never did get what Namine was talking about those few weeks ago. He suspected he never would unless _someone_ would tell him the truth. Doubtful, he didn't know why he bothered with people any more most of the time. Either way, they'd be gone in 2 days, he left from the big top that night with a heavy heart. There were just so many bloody questions he may never get answers to. OOO The next morning, for some reason, Roxas woke much earlier than usual. He felt lighter; somewhere something good must have happened to someone else. He didn't even mind any more that this was his last day at the circus. Almost. Roxas poured his cheerios happily with the thought of his final pay cheque. Munching on his tiny morsels of copyright infringed goodness, he didn't even notice until the last moment that someone was pounding on his door. Huh. Getting up he cautiously threw the rest of his cereal down his throat before reaching for the doorknob. Standing in his building's hallways was Hayner, looking at him liked he'd killed his puppy. There went his good morning. "Yes?" He asked, clearly not in the mood to deal with a bitchy friend. "Dude, what the fuck? You hang up on me three days ago, don't call, and don't stay around your house. I thought you'd been shanked in an alleyway or something!" "Sorry man" Roxas said. Shit, he knew he'd forgotten about something. "I just got really busy, I got a job." "What, really? So fast?" "Yeah man! Working as a temp for the circus." Hayner balked, looking disgusted. "Seriously? I though we agreed that place was shitty." _Oh yeah_ Roxas thought tiredly. _Hayner hates everything_. "Yeah, but money." He stated, not wanting to argue how awesome the circus really was to his idiot friend. "Oh yeah." "Yeah. Now if you don't mind, I have to get to my job so…" He slammed the door back over his friends face, breathing a satisfied smile. The ignored the pounding and another 'WHAT THE FUCK?!' and went to put on some real clothes. He didn't know why he had done that to Hayner, but goddamn it felt good. Once had dressed properly, he waltzed out the door, into the hallway…and into Hayner's waiting fist. Roxas buckled, cradling his nose gingerly. "See you later buddy!" Hayner chirped, skipping down the hallway and into a waiting elevator happily. God. He couldn't even have a fight properly without some guy lying through his teeth. His morning being thoroughly ruined he started walking to the elevator after grabbing some tissue to stuff up his bleeding nose. It hurt like hell. He walked down the street's for a little bit, being stopped ever so often by a 'concerned citizen', A.K.A people indirectly telling him not to bleed on them. Dealing with the people of Hallow Bastion was more torture to himself sometimes than dealing with his bleeding nose. Roxas didn't want to go to his last day at his temp job looking like shit, but at the rate he was bleeding out he'd be lucky if he showed up with more blood in his face than on it. His napkins more than soaked through he chucked them to the ground, ignoring the disgusted look he got from a woman. At least his bleeding had mostly stopped. He looked around Hallow Bastion, seeing the mess the city was in. It was hurricane season, and the harbour had given them more than one natural disaster over the past month. Nothing was worse than the first one they'd though, coupled with a lightning storm. There were all kinds of report of freaky stuff happening since that night. He wiped his hand across his nose returning to his current predicament, flicking any excess blood away, he hoped he didn't look _to_ bad. Oh well, he'd find out soon because he was beginning to see the towers of the big top. He frowned, at little sad that he'd never see the sight again, they were taking down the tent today. As he walked up he saw a joyous Demyx bounce up to him, waving like an idiot. Until he really got a look at him, that is. "Oh my god! What happened? Are you okay? Yeesh. MARLY WE HAVE A BLEEDER!" Demyx grabbed Roxas face, staring into it with a little frown. Roxas wiggled away, shoving his palm up to wipe his nose again. Coddling, eugh. "I'm, fine, I'm fine…" He said, shoving his face into his now bloody palm shaking his head in annoyance as he saw a panicked Marluxia run up to him clutching an odd silver cube. "_Marly_," Demyx started "It's Roxas that got hurt." He said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, Marluxia blinked slowly once before glancing sharply down and seeing what he was holding. "Shit, right." The man stated, wheeling around and coming back briefly with just a bottle of water and some tissue. "Here." "Thanks." The blonde said, turning back to Roxas and handing him the tissue, Roxas sighed, but took it nonetheless. He eye'd the box Marluxia had set aside, what was that? Demyx grimaced, grabbing his wrist and leading him over to a huge box and sitting him down on it. "How'd this happen?" He asked sadly, sitting down himself. Roxas froze. This was his chance to share _something_ about himself with him before they left. He wasn't sure he could do it. "I-uh. I had a disagreement with someone's fist." There, he'd gone and blown his only chance to share in a panic. Damn. "Okay, I get it. You don't wanna share." He glanced a the boy again with an expression akin to regret "You can't work yet though, it's just gross until you stop bleeding." "Mmkaph" Roxas slurred out through his tissue. Hayner had really hit him _hard_ he couldn't believer he was still bleeding close to 20 minutes later. "We don't need you staining the tent" Demyx said, giggling while grabbing a hunk of dampened tissue and wiping at his forehead which he'd bloodied up earlier. They worked quietly together for a while; cleaning Roxas up, falling into a comfortable silence while people bustled behind them. Roxas was surprised no one was telling him and Demyx to hurry up. The man paused after a bit, before scooting a bit closer to him "Did you know that there's a legend of fruit that when two people eat it, their destiny's are intertwined?" Roxas shook his head, lifting the tissue away from his nose. "Well, those two people will always find one another, their destiny's will forever go hand and hand. Kinda nice, isn't it?" Roxas looked at him. Why tell him this story? He was looking at him so…expectantly. "Well anyways, it looks like you've stopped bleeding." Demyx said, clapping his legs and standing up, shaking Roxas out of his thoughts "Come on, let's go! It's your last day right? Let's have fun!" He jumped up and scampered away, turning around and motioning for Roxas to follow. The boy got up, following reluctantly, glancing back to the box they'd been sitting on. It read 'FRAGILE' in big red letters, only Demyx would sit him on a box like that. Laughing he followed his idiot coworker into the slowly shrinking tent.

Inside there was hardly anyone around, all the people having vacated long ago to pursue other things needing to be done, it was kind of sad to see it empty. Roxas gazed at the space were the silver platform used to sit, looking at the large indentation on the ground. He kept getting himself depressed, but really, what else was expected out of him when both his job and his only source of a good time were being ripped away from him? He jumped a bit when he was pinched. He'd forgotten he was with someone.

"Come on then!" Demyx said, smiling "why are you looking so down?"

"Well, it's just that after today I'll never see any of this again. Any of you guys again."

"You never know." Demyx said, leaning on a pole.

"What? You're coming back to this town again someday?" Demyx looked at him with the strangest look on his face clearly about to say something. Leaning himself more heavily on the pole, Demyx opened his mouth to as if to speak. Only to feel the pole give in under his pressure, allowing the rest of the tent to fall down on them.

"Shit!" Demyx cried, "I think I just knocked down the main support beam!" Roxas didn't say anything, to busy swimming in layers of shimmering white fabric.

"DEMYYYX" could be heard from the outside, someone clearly unimpressed by the fact that he'd just toppled down the remnants of the tent. Roxas gulped, wading to the direction of the angry voice and hopefully out of the tent.

By the time Roxas finally dragged himself out of the folds and back into the blinding sunlight he was sure he could see the blood boiling on Luxord's face. Spooked, he scooted away, trying to make himself blend into the crowd of people either gaping at the mess or laughing. He ducked behind Larxene, who wasn't laughing but wiping tears away from her eye's looking satisfied.

"Did you do that kid?" She asked "I mean, if you did Luxord's going to skin you for it."

"No, Demyx was leaning on the main support pole." He said offhandedly, watching the bump in the fabric that must have been Demyx move around in a haphazard manner, looking for escape. The poor bump didn't even notice a fast approaching Luxord jumping over piles of cloth advancing towards him. He let out a small 'ack!' however, when he was shoved from behind in the direction of the exit he silently followed the man's lead. Roxas laughed, what a way to leave these people.

When Demyx finally reappeared with a sheepish look on his face everyone chuckled, and the ordeal was over.

OOO

The next couple of hours were spent undoing the mess the poor man had caused. He'd made it 10 times harder to take down the tent. People begrudgingly had to dive into the thing, find the support poles and drag them out, instead of taking down all the support poles while the tent was up, eventually being left with the main support. The poor big top looked like a deflated soufflé.

It took hours, and Roxas went to leave that night feeling exhausted and giddy. He wasn't going away from a huge tent that night, but rather a series of smaller tents easily packed up in the morning. They'd leave early and never return. He smiled sadly, he'd only really said goodbye to a few of the people of the circus. They hadn't really seemed all that sad to see him go, which confirmed Roxas' suspicion that they were only _acting_. It hurt him, but didn't surprise him.

The only person whose goodbye that Roxas was expecting to be big was Demyx's. He was so big into theatrics', he was sure he'd throw himself at him sobbing or something. When he'd gone to say goodbye to the other blonde it had been…lack lustre.

"Hey" Roxas said, pushing the flap of the small tent aside, peering into the confines of his personal tent. He found Demyx sitting on a huge pile of trunks and boxes fiddling with a chunky sliver phone. "What's with the ancient phone?" He asked, eyeing the archaic device.

"Oh. This?" He said, glancing up. "It was all the rage 15 years ago."

"What, your parents give it to you as a kid?"

"Sorta." He laughed "You wanna talk about something before you go?"

"Before I go? Before _you _go. You know, say goodbye." He squeaked out.

"Right, right." He murmured. "Bye!"

"Bye…" Roxas said, not knowing what to do. Demyx was sitting there waving like an idiot at him. So he turned and left, not knowing what to do or say anymore.

Standing outside the grounds he finally turned around to head home, shoving the hood of his sweater up to cover his ears. This close to September Hallow Bastion started to get really nippy, and he didn't want to get caught in one of the down pours they'd been having.

He would have kept walk to, if not for a voice calling out to him.

"Roxas! Wait!" He turned, seeing Marluxia running up towards him.

"Yeah?" He asked, slightly irritated. He already said goodbye to Marluxia, just like the other's and it had just as been disappointing.

"Just." The man breathed out "Just remember we all like you. No matter what." Roxas started at him. What?

"See ya." He called, turning back around and running back into his tent, hair flapping behind him. Roxas shook his head; maybe he just wasn't destined to understand the circus folk. He shrugged, to late now.

So he headed back home, thoughts of his past couple of weeks running through his head. He wondered offhandedly what had gotten Larxene so drunk she's tazored someone anyways.

OOO

A huddle to men gathered together in the nippy night air. They were all more than happy to be leaving the town behind them. They could only ever handle a month in places like this. The tallest man stood up straighter, clapping his hands together.

"Okay guys. You all know what were doing tonight, personally it's not my favourite method, but _someone_ doesn't like the direct approach." The shorter man beside him shuffled his feet, embarrassed. "Anyways. We get in, we get out. We get the fuck out of this city." Everyone nodded happily.

"Let roll!" The shorter one cried, cringing at the chorus of 'shhh's' following his outburst.

"And for fucks sake, be quite." Groaned out the tallest. The group moved. To the city, it just looked like a few young lads having a night out on the town, maybe picking up a transvestite for a go. The tallest sure _looked_ feminine enough. Little did the people of the town know, that these were no ordinary men.

They had approached a tawny brick building the shorter one giggled and bent over haphazardly. The shortest, having yet to say anything, kicked the other in the knee as silent reminder. The tallest one followed up by smacking the shorter over the head. They were to close to screw up now. The other stopped giggling; shooting the other's a dirty look through the dark. The other's shrugged, and began climbing the fire escape of the building. The final one scampered behind.

Clattering up to the top of the fire escape, they reach their destination, a lone window on the left side of the 22nd floor. The giggly one scampered up the window ledge eagerly, popping open the window with a laser sharp knife.

Sliding inside the room, his feet meet with soft carpeting. He walked in cautiously, glancing at the kid sleeping only a few feet away from him. He boy's face was scrunched up, his lips tugging downward. Even in his sleep he looked guarded.

Shaking his head happily he slung the kid over his shoulder like a potato sack. The tallest man gave him a disgusted look, which he shrugged off. He was way to happy to think about other people's opinion's right now. Skipping out of the room, he bounced the poor kid all the way down the fire escape and in his boxers and a t-shirt.

Roxas slept through the whole thing like a rock.

A/N: Sooo, my beta has kind of gone awhol, so I'm posting this with only my editing in it. Sorry for the poor qulity in regards to grammar, but it's never been my strong point! Anyways, enjoy and feel free point out any typo's/grammar errors!

FINAL THING: scine I'm now moving on without my beta I _should_ be able to update every other week now!


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Aerith Gainsborough was a mild mannered woman, she always thought the best of people and never doubted anyone. She did her job, lived her life and didn't expect anyone to do any special favours for her. She did however; get a kick out of doing special favours for other people.

So when Aerith found a boy lying unconscious on the beach when she went to go tanning, she of course she dropped her belongings and ran to help him. Once she had reached the boy lying haphazardly on the sand she saw how thin and frail he looked, and panicked. Aerith would never take a creature in need to the hospital though, never. Aerith was the kind of woman who would take care of the boy herself. So she heaved him onto her shoulders, picked up her discarded items, and ran him back to her home.

Destiny Island wasn't a big nation, but living on the main island did get Aerith a little bit closer to civilization than the people of Costa del Sol were she had planned on tanning that day. She knew it was best to take him with her. The islands were isolated; she wasn't even sure how many people knew about them. For some reason however, it wasn't uncommon for a random person to show up claiming to have been swept away in a storm. The island was a magnet for lost souls trying to find peace.

As she tucked the frail boy into the covers of her guest bed she wondered if he's wake up with a similar story to the others. She hoped not, the people who got swept away always had the saddest tales.

Looking down at the boy she had rescued however, she was no fool. His body wasn't that of someone who was just thin, it was of someone who was _starved_. His wrists were also a cause for concern, they were blistered and raw from god knows what. She gently lifted one up, looking at the yellowing crust forming over the wounds. She needed to treat this now, conscious or not.

Scurrying away she came back with antiseptic and bandages, expecting the boy to be were she left him. She was not expecting, though, to see him sitting straight up with a wild look in his eyes.

"Were…?" He started; shifting his eye's frantically about the room.

"Your safe now" She cooed, softly pushing him back down onto the bed below. "Now, now, we can talk later. Rest." The boy started at her, mouth parted slightly in fright, but settled grudgingly back into the bed, almost immediately falling back asleep. Aerith's eyes softened; the poor dear must have been exhausted.

Humming slightly, she went forward with her task to clean and wrap his wounds. Once the job was done she looked down on the sleeping figure, smiling sadly. Once the poor thing awoke she was going to hear his story, but not before she gave him some real food.

Walking into the kitchen she bit her lip nervously, she lived alone, and all she had was a collection of light weight dresses, shorts, tanks and shawls. Nothing a boy his age would want to wear. Making up her mind she ran out of her little seaside home hurriedly, only stopping to twist her hair into a high ponytail.

Jogging down a sandy strip of beach she eyed her neighbour's home a short distance away. The boy who lived there would probably have something in his size she could have. Walking up to the front door, she saw her neighbour lying listlessly on a hammock.

"Leon!" She said, smiling down at the man. He saw her, rolled around on the swinging bed, and grunted. "Um, I found someone washed a shore. A boy, actually. His only clothes are really damaged, so I though maybe you could maybe lend him something? Please?"

"Ugh, another one?" He grunted out, unhappy with letting more of his clothes slip away. "I swear you're a magnet for them."

"I helped you, didn't I?"

"Well, yeah." He admitted begrudgingly, finally meeting the woman's pleading expression. "Fine." He groaned out, plopping out of his hammock and dragged himself into his seaside shack, Aerith happily following behind him.

"Thank you Leon." She said, beaming as he threw a red t-shirt and heavy black cargo pants at her. She caught them easily. "I'll let you get back to your…contemplations."

"It's called brooding!" He called at her as she walked away giggling, he was far too serious for his own good.

Heading back down to her own little spot of beach she slipped back into her own home, thinking about how far Leon had come. He'd washed up on the shores of Destiny Island just as this boy had only years before, he was much more hostile back then. She could only note his softening character to his time on the islands. This place was magical to Aerith; people came here when they needed to be healed, and left again when they were whole. The entire process was so wonderful to her, she felt blessed for being a native to the shores.

Padding into her tiny kitchen she dug around in her fridge, nothing really good to eat, hm. Would the boy be able to go out with her if she wanted to get something to eat? She doubted it, picking up the phone she decided to order Chinese.

"Hello? Yes, I'll have a Ton-pow dinner for 2 delivered to…oh!" She dropped the phone, hurrying to the boy that was draped over her doorframe. Wrapping an arm around him she picked up the phone, hearing a very irritated man on the other end. "Uh. Medical Emergency, sorry!" She blurted out quickly before slamming the receiver down, she had more important things to deal with right now.

"You shouldn't be out of bed." She said, leading the boy over to her couch resting him on it gingerly.

"I need to escape."

"Shhh, you fine, you don't need to escape from here."

"But, I need to-"

"Hush, your safe here, now what's you name?"

"I-all I remember is 'Sora'."

"Then Sora it is."

OOO

The two sat on the couch and talked for a bit while Sora was still conscious. He didn't know who he was or how he had come to be on the island. He said he could remember being in captivity, but not what he had been doing in it or why. They never did order Chinese food.

Aerith fawned over the boy incessantly that night, picking at his clothes and pulling at his hair, Sora wiggled out of her prying hands. He wasn't entirely comfortable with someone touching him just yet. Aerith tried not to be hurt, but his tendency to shove her off was strange. Everyone else she had picked up on the shores of the beach had wanted to be held by her, cuddled by her. She just didn't get it.

But Aerith wasn't happy just leaving the boy in a dark and uncomfortable state. When the sky grew dark and the world of Destiny Island began to sleep she was at a loss with what to do with him. As his eyes grew heavier and the night grew longer, Aerith eventually gave up and dragged him back into her guest room.

Looking down at her newly acquired lodger, she sighed. Was there nothing she could do for Sora? His lack of a past worried her to no end, and what he could remember led her to think his past wasn't something she should even consider to uncover.

"I remember being hurt. I remember needing to get away." He'd said, lifting his baby blue's to meet her own green. She had no words for him. How was she supposed to comfort someone who had no idea what was truly wrong? She was stumped.

Aerith Gainsborough was a comforting, motherly person. She had never been stumped on how to comfort a person in her 24 years of life. Yet, she was somehow floundering with how to calm one mild mannered teenager.

Was she losing her touch?

OOO

When Sora woke up in the morning he was greeted with something he hadn't felt in years. Warmth. Stretching out into the humid air, he was immediately wary as to why he was able to move. How was he even able to have coherent thoughts? He was feeling extra lazy, like he'd been asleep for ages. He couldn't really sense anything yet, still feeling his way out of sleeping beauty mode. Afraid that some new drug cocktail had been given to him, he frantically tried to pry open his eye's. He opened his eye's agonizingly slow, expecting to be greeted with the same dark he'd been see for as long as he could recollect. Shockingly, he was greeted with the hazy view of a bookshelf filled to the brim with novels, garish pink floral wallpaper, and a plush looking chair in the corner.

Oh. It was real.

Somewhere in the middle of his conversation with the woman from last night, he'd convinced himself that it was all just some kind of horrible hallucination. He thought it was over, he wasn't waking up after that night. The woman- Areis? He'd though she was an angel taking him to the afterlife. But unless he was truly insane he had really escaped. He didn't think his mind was girly enough to come up with something as feminine as pink floral wallpaper.

Sora looked around, peeping his eyes cautiously over the covers of his thick blanket, having long since retreated back under the duvet. Even though it was simply _baking_ underneath the covers, he was too afraid to come out. His chest constricted. Now that the initial relief of finding out he wasn't in that, that _place_ was gone he was terrified again.

Where the hell was he? Why wasn't someone coming for him? Was-was he just moved to somewhere else? No. The woman had seemed so genuine. So? Oh god. Sora lifted a trembling hand, pinching the bridge of his nose.

_Ohfuckohfuckohfuck_ His breathing hitched, he had successfully woken himself up. Tears streamed haphazardly down his face. He felt so alive right now, but soon he'd be numb again, soon he'd be used again. Huddling deeper in the blankets, he formed the fetal position under the covers, trying to shove down his hiccupping sobs.

He wasn't very successful, because he heard the scurrying steps of a person who was clearly frantic.

"Oh my god! Sora? Are you awake? Thank god-" The voice stopped it frenzied ramblings abruptly, Sora listened closely, hearing the foot steps stop before slowly start up again in a more attentive way. "Sora? What- oh." She laughed out, throwing the covers off the boy. Sora froze, snapping out of his previous position and scrambling backwards quickly in a stricken way. The woman stopped, looking hurt.

"What's wrong?" She asked dejectedly reaching a tentative hand out towards him. "Sora…?"

"What's wrong?!" He barked, "Well, your first mistake was not chaining me up! I'll kill you now before you get me!"

"What?" The woman said, her head tilting to the side, brows pushing together.

"I won't let you keep me! I'm free!" Sora screeched, scrambling back ward with every step the woman took forward and around the bed. By the time she reached the end of the bed had Sora scurried to the edge of it.

"Sora." One step.

"No! I won't be held again! Never-" Two steps.

"Sora! Stop!" Three steps, she was in front of him.

"Why should I?" He screeched doubling in on himself and hunching his shoulders forward, falling apart at the foot of this woman.

"Because I'm not going to hurt you!" She sounded so desperate.

"LIAR!" He cried, flopping his face back into his hands in defeat. Sobs wracked through his body, diminishing the last of his bravado. The woman reached downward to rest a hand on his shoulder, but he reeled away quickly, falling to the floor.

His wrists hurt.

His head hurt. Why wasn't she trying to hurt him more? What was she just standing there looking down at him? He twisted a bit in his misshapen pile of limbs, whipping his face roughly. The woman moved again, causing him to shrivel further back and cuddle closer in the carpet he was now laying on. She didn't move any closer though, but moved to the chair he'd noticed earlier and sat down gently.

Moping his face a bit more, Sora waited quietly for her to make her move, but when he looked up he only saw her shaking her head and holding up her hands in defeat smiling.

"I won't hurt you." She whispered, warming her smile a bit. Sora pulled his hands away from his face timidly.

"Really?"

"Really."

'I-I don't…"

"Shh" The woman said, getting up off her chair and walking out of the room.

Sora was stunned.

OOO

Sora was faced with a moral dilemma. Food or the unknown. Somehow, his long dormant stomach made the decision for him eventually, pulling himself out of the ball of comforter he had made around himself and yanking him towards the alluring smell floating out of the kitchen.

For a long time Sora sat in the pink room, worrying and agonizing about leaving his position in the possibilities. He didn't trust that woman. Although he hadn't had any outwardly bad experiences with her, he couldn't quiet silence his outrageous paranoia. What if she was just trying to torture him by not giving him any answers? After about a day or so of sitting about and sleeping restlessly after their encounter, the only person that seemed to be torturing him was himself. That thought alone was enough to get out of the bed on spindly limbs and scuttle towards the scent.

When he opened the door shyly, cringing at the painfully awkward creek drawn out of it, he looked out of his chamber and into the rest of the house. The woman in the kitchen turned around slowly, a hopeful look adorning her features.

"You like soup?" She whispered, waving a spatula over a pot of the steaming aforementioned item.

"Yeah." He squeaked out, darting his eyes around nervously, looking for possible escape routes if something went bad. Eyes catching on a window he darted towards it, unconcerned with the woman now pouring him a serving. He heaved himself onto the ledge of the windowsill, gazing out inquisitively.

The sight before him was incredible; the sands were soft and white, gracefully hugging the edges of the huge crystalline sea. The soft sway of the palm tree's whispered to him as the glow of the sun kissed his face. However scared, alone and hopeless as he once was, this island was safe. He turned back to the woman standing behind him, seeing her smiling at him again. The dark days might just be over.

OOO

Sora was civil after that night, he ate silently but gratefully and didn't fight Aerith anymore. He was embarrassed to have to ask for her name again, but the woman had just laughed it off. She was pretty, with her long brown hair cascading down her back and sun kissed skin. She'd apparently be looking after him since he arrived at the island two weeks prior.

Turns out he'd washed ashore then swiftly fallen asleep for two weeks. Other than upsetting Sora though, it had explained why he'd felt so good after waking up. He didn't remember much of his life but enduring a lot of physical pain, so it was nice to rest.

That is to say, all he did on the island was rest. He'd walk along the shoreline, at first alone but then with Aerith, and just looked at things. He felt like everything in the world was fresh to him visually. The sand under his feet and the sun hanging lazily above his head all blurred into one curious kaleidoscope of colours he couldn't get enough of.

He was surprised less by the scenery however, and more by his own reflection. Staring at himself in the mirror for the first time was a nightmare. His skin was ghostly white, cheeks concave, dull blue eyes and shaggy long brown hair. He looked ugly, ugly and old and tortured. He hadn't talked to Aerith for days after he'd seen his reflection, he sat in his room swimming in his own self pity, eye's low and dark.

When Aerith left to go to work Sora would crawl into a small ball and lie dormant for hours until she'd return home to unfurrow. Eventually, Aerith grew aware of the way Sora was acting. Being the woman she was, she was determined to get Sora to live again. So one day as she went to go to work she latched onto Sora arm, hauling him out the door despite his protests. He followed her begrudgingly for 15 minutes until they reached a small building in the middle of the business section of town.

Intruded, Sora followed a little more willingly as Aerith meandered into the one of the buildings before her. Inside was a small dreary reception area and past a door into an open room with equipment scattered all over the place. Trampolines, barbells, balance beams, this place had a plethora of work out equipment as well as things for more finely tuned skills.

"What is this place?" Sora wondered, circling his body around, careful not to hit anything in his inspection.

"It's my gym. I train gymnasts to competition level." Aerith explained, walking about briskly. "I want you to train with me."

"What?"

"You heard me, you're not doing anything at home Sora, you need a life." She stared at him sweetly for a moment, "Now get down and give me 50."

OOO

Sora didn't know what fifty was, or how to give them to Aerith, but wandering around the room with her, letting her point out each piece of equipment by name helped. As other gymnasts poured in, he began to see what was truly expected of him. Even though Aerith said he never had to get to that level, seeing the entire group of beautiful people mill around happily bending their bodies and expertly was embarrassing. He tried to heave a barbell up once, and fell. Sora really wasn't doing well, but he wanted to be better, he wanted to twist gracefully on the mat like he saw the others doing. One girl in particular was amazing, she stretched and bent and flipped happily about the room, not caring at Sora's intense stare of envy. When she actually caught his eye however, she turned and smiled, rearranging her limbs into walking formation before strolling forward.

"Hey! Never seen you before, you new?"

"Yeah." Sora said, blushing crimson "She found me on the beach."

"Ohhh, I see. Well, don't worry about it, you're much better off now! Name's Yuffie by the way, you?"

"Sora"

"Well Sora, whadda ya good at?"

"Oh. Um. I don't know, I know I'm not flexible." He admitted sheepishly, embarrassed he didn't know more about himself except the obvious. How could he possibly be anwear near these people in flexibility? He wished he's paid more attention to Aerith earlier, because he had no idea what any of the skills practiced here were.

"Well, okay! We'll just have to try everything then, yes? _My_ personal favourite is the parallel bars, but we'll try you on something a bit easier first, yeah? Here." She walked over to a table, picking something up before heading back. "Here" She chirped, handed him a willowy stick with a gaudy orange ribbon attached to it.

"What do I do with this?" He asked, staring down at the offending object.

"You twiiirl it!" Yuffie laughed, spinning around the room, wrist expertly flicking her own stick to follow her in elegant loops and waves.

"Uh." Sora stretched his own hand out, giving it an experimental swipe for the effect, the ribbon danced breezily, but feel flat again moments later. Excited Sora took another swipe with the stick, seeing it spinning again through the air. Getting carried away he spun once, letting the ribbon ripple with him. Swinging his hand in the final flourish he giggled, accidentally letting the stick escape from between his fingers. The object sailed through the air spinning directly into another man's head. Sora stared dumbly, watching his ribbon soar away from him while Yuffie laughed in the background.

"Hey!" Cried a boy, waving the equipment around in his hand "What the hell?" Twisting around he flung it back at Sora. Seeing a flying object rocketing towards him did not do well for Sora anxiety. Heart pounding he whipped himself back wards, leaning going as far as to force his hands onto the ground behind him, making his body arch like a rainbow.

"Sora?" Yuffie said in a tone he couldn't understand.

"Y-yeah?" He answered, to embarrassed to move out of his arch.

"I thought you said you weren't flexible."

"I'm not."

"That" she pointed firmly to his position "Is flexibility Sora."

"Oh."

OOO

It turns out Sora was very, very flexible. Yuffie had squealed at the discovery, telling him he was a prodigy. And that's all he needed. He began to eat more; he ate and walked, and stayed in the sun when he wasn't practicing. He and Yuffie spent hours together tuning his flexibility and learning tricks. And like osmosis, Sora began picking up on her chipper personality. Soon he was laughing and cracking jokes with all the gym members.

Jason, the boy he's thrown his ribbon at the first day, soon became quick friends with the perky brunette. Bonding with him became easy, as they were both regulars at the gym alongside Yuffie and a few others.

"Hey, hey Sora?" Jason cried, rolling off his beam, done for the day.

"Yeah?" He said, coking his head to the side.

"Why do you have ladies hair?"

"What? I don't!" He cried, pulling his ponytail in his hands, petting it self-consciously.

"Yeah, you do. It's in a scrunchie for christ sake!" he laughed, seeing the other boy turn pink before him.

"I just…this is how I was found!"

"So, doesn't mean you can't cut it! I mean, _come on_ a pony tail?"

"I guess…" He said, walking away to the other side of the room to carry out his training, nervously stroking his 'girly' ponytail.

That day he walked home alone, not waiting for Aerith to finish closing up, he deicide instead to head into town on his own. Investigating the shop heads and vendors, he thought back to the conversation he'd had with Jason earlier. Jason was a native, he remember everything about his life what he like who loved him and were his roots are. Who was he to laugh at someone clinging onto things of the past? He didn't get it.

The people of this island, although kind and welcoming, didn't have the sensitivity that others who felt what it was like to lose themselves completely. The one thing wrong with Destiny Island was not weather or resources or people, but the atmosphere it's self. Destiny Island was too perfect, the people grew up in these warm secure bubbles, and when outsiders came around, they were always pushed away by the perfectness of everything.

He knew he wasn't perfect, he still triple checked his closet and locked his bedroom door, at night. At the very least though, he wanted a chance to look perfect. So walking into the nearest salon, he smiled happily at the woman in front of the desk lifting his ponytail up carefully.

"Can you chop this off?"

OOO

Springy. That was the only word he could use to describe his hair now. Even though the stylist had tried desperately, he couldn't tame the mass of cowlicks and spikes that had bounced up once he had cut his hair. He giggled, looking at his ridiculous new hair, somehow looking at this huge chocolate brow spike pit made him feel more alive. He wondered offhandedly what his hair had looked like before he forgot. Probably the same, cowlicks like these didn't happen randomly, he was probably cursed with them from birth.

He wondered if he'd had a lot of friends. Was Sora even his real name, Aerith said she'd been told it was by himself, but he wondered. He wondered about so many things, he wished just one person was around that would ease his anxiety, tell him who he was. But he wasn't even sure were he was from; surely he'd lived on the mainland?

He'd never heard of anyone talking about the mainland before. Ever. It was like all that existed was the Islands. Tugging at his huge black cargo pants he's been wearing all week, he wandered farther away from the shopping district, venturing deep into the palm trees and over growth by the beach. It was always so quiet in the islands wildlife, the tree's giving off the barest 'swoosh' as they swayed around him.

Sora walked for what seemed like hours, until eventually he heard the roar of a waterfall. Intruded, he walked closer to the sound, determined to find out what the cause of it was. Brushing his way past a few trees, he eventually stumbled upon a small clearing with a tiny water fall splashing into a minuscule pool of water bellow. He scooted close to the edge of the pool surrounding the fall. How was all the water staying in one place like that? Bending forward, he reached haphazardly close to the falling water, running his fingers under the spray. The water felt warm and comforting, and he allowed himself to jump into the pool.

Suddenly, Sora felt the tug of a current he hadn't noticed earlier, sweeping his feet out from underneath himself. It quickly becoming more obvious were all the water was going. There was a dark little cave; probably small enough you'd have to crawl to get in, that all the water was being pulled into. At the angle Sora had been staring at the falls, he hadn't seen it.

The current was a lot stronger than he'd expected, thrashing about wildly, Sora was struck with the fact that he couldn't swim. His heart slammed against his chest. He was going to die. He was going to die for being too fucking curious. He cursed his own stupidity, what did he think he was going to find in a waterfall pond? As the scenery grew darker around him he prepped himself of the inevitable. But instead of being pulled downward into what he assumed was another waterfall, he felt a strong arm warm around his own flailing appendage. He was quickly wretched up into the musky air of the cave and thrown down. Blinking water out of his eyes he saw the blurry figure of a man leaning up against the cave wall, pulling off the long sleeved shirt he'd been wearing. Sora squinted at him to get a better look being the cave was dim at best, but all he could make out was that the man was fairly tall.

"You've gone and messed up my good shirt." The man grumbled, half heartedly wringing the article of clothing out before throwing it to the ground.

"Y-You saved me!" Sora cried, scampering back up onto his feet, reaching out to cling to the stranger. "Thankyouthankyouthankyou"

"Eguh." The man cringed, trying his best to worm out of the embrace that Sora had latched him in. "Kindly get fuck off me now." He grumbled, looking down at Sora's crestfallen face, he cringed again. "Please?"

"Okay…" Sora said, slumping back down onto the floor embarrassed. "So. Uh."

"So…?" The stranger said, striding back to the end of the cave where he'd apparently been sitting before Sora had come.

Wordlessly Sora trailed behind him, following the man to his seat in front of an elegant wooden door towering above them in the cave. A lamp was situated by the man, illuminating his face in its soft glow. He had elegant features, with a long thin nose, soft pouty lips and dark brown hair falling down to his chin. His eye's were stormy and distant, looking at the door with an expression between longing and despise. He turned towards Sora again, revealing a long pink scare running from his left eyebrow to the bottom right-hand side of his nose. It looked to be a few years old. Sora was about to say something about it, when he was cut off by the searing look the man gave him, as if expecting the question.

"So are you just going to follow me around?" He sighed, running a hand over his face tiredly.

"Well, I don't know how to leave here, so for now, yeah." Sora said, skipping past the man and going closer to the door. "Why's there a door here? And what's with the no handle?"

"…It's a sacred ground." The man said, after a long pause, running a hand over the woods grains

"Oh, cool! Why are you here?"

"…"

"Do you live close by?"

"…"

"So what's your name?"

"…"

"Hello?" Sora said, irritated by the man's silence "It's rude no to talk to someone, you know!" The man sighed again, burring his face into his hands.

"I'm waiting for something, yes, Leon, no it's not." He looked back up, out of his hands, staring at the boy. "Done with the interrogation? Good. Let's go."

"But wait!" Sora said, trying to avoid irritating his savour more "I thought you were waiting for something…?"

"I was."

"And now?"

"And now I'm taking you out of here."

"Oh! But…" Sora turned back, examine the door one more time, he traced his hands over the outer edge, finally bringing it to the bottom of the floor. Sighing in defeat, he made to clamour back up on his feet, grabbing the lantern as he left. The movement of the tiny light swirled around the room, illuminating the wall behind Sora. Turning around for one last goodbye, he glanced at what looked like some childlike carving on the wall.

There was one of a boy with spiky hair, smiling and lifting a fruit up. Sora stared, transfixed by the tiny carving at the base of the cave, looking at the little boy crudely drawn face.

"Come on kid!" Leon cried, breaking Sora from his trance stooped over the damp wall. As he got up to follow, it wasn't until he caught up with Leon's trail that he realized he'd been crying. Wiping away his tears roughly, he looked back at the door, fading into the natural darkness of the cave. What was up with that carving?

OOO

When Leon had eventually lead him back into the open air, Sora was impressed by the man's navigation skills. He's expertly lead him through a maze of tunnels, skipping over the little streams weaving into the stone floor like it was a walk in the park. He didn't say much except for the occasional, 'watch out' or, 'that's poisons', which left Sora a bit on edge.

By the time they had reached the original waterfall again, they'd been walking for over an hour without a single word being passed between them. When Leon reached the waterfall, he turned to Sora, slapped him on the back in an awkward gesture of reassurance, and turned to walk away.

"Wait!" He cried, not ready to lose his companion just yet. The man didn't say anything more, but turned around to face him, eyebrows raised in a questioning '_Yes?_'.

"Um, I didn't even introduce myself! I'm Sora! I'm living with Aerith right now, but I'm hoping to get my own place soon!" He grinned, Leon had to say something now.

"I know." He said, turning around to walk away again, leaving Sora with his jaw hanging open.

"Know? How?" He squawked.

"You're wearing my pants." Leon smirked "Me and Aerith are neighbours."

Sora gaped; he must have known all along, the bastard.

OOO

After the little incident with the waterfall, Sora didn't go out into the natural sections of the island anymore. He stayed at the gym and worked on his training. He was making quick progress, and had advanced quickly from basic stretches, to the trampoline, to parallel bars. Sora put his mind body and soul into his training, and gave up on friendships at the gym.

Somehow, after Jason's comment Sora didn't want to make friends with people anymore, he felt he had given in too quickly to the other's demands he get a normal haircut. Either way, it hadn't turned out like a normal haircut. He was stuck without his old hair and without a perfect new cut. It hurt, somehow, losing that last piece of his past.

He'd asked Aerith about Leon, and it turns out the man really was their neighbour. When Sora enquired about him though, he was turned down, being told 'If he wanted people to know about his past, he'd tell them' she explained. Which made Sora even more curious. Leon was also a person who'd showed up on the shores of the islands, but their situations apparently couldn't be more different. Apparently Sora was _better adapted_ then Leon to island life. The thought that someone could be worse at adjusting to this place than him was both amusing and sad.

Sora was a social outcast. To many people around him? He'd panic. All the doors and windows locked? He'd panic. Wherever he went he felt naked and ugly compared to the rest of the residents. Although he didn't have any particular hatred towards Aerith, the rest of the island was up for scrutiny. Every time he was around other people he felt like he was squinting at their brilliance compared to his gloom.

So Aerith did the one thing she though she could do for him, she took him to church.

The walls of the cathedral were tall and echoing, allowing the choirs to carry their voices high into the rafters, echoing in glory. The candles burned steadily, glowing and flickering in the soft lighting. The woman sat primly, hair swept up off their necks bound into thick braids and plump buns. And Sora sat dismally, sweating his hide off while taking nervous glances at the heavy woman beside him, heaving in the humid air. The service was just over half done, and the woman's breathing had become more laboured with each passing moment. The last thing he wanted was for her to keel over onto him, drowning him in her layers of flab.

As the mass neared its end, the choirs picked up again, swelling into the chorus with delicate harmonies. He looked around the room bored, not really caring much for being dragged to this affair, when he noticed something about the women. Slowly, one by one, he saw them pulling out hankies and tissues, or delicately using their sleeves to mop up tears. Everyone, slowly but surely, was weeping. The men too, soon started sniffing rapidly and rubbing their eyes.

Sora was dumbfounded, how could so many people be moved by something like a song? The lyrics weren't even that sad, being something about 'being saved by the almighty one'. So why was everyone around him crying, leaning on one another, and finally, clapping. When the song ended the church erupted into a thunder of applause for the small choir. He looked to his other side, and saw Aerith herself clapping fiercely, letting her last tears slide down her face.

Walking out of the church he was equally stumped, how was everyone so moved by such a performance? The choir wasn't _that_ good. It wasn't until he was back at Aerith place, underneath the sheets of his bed that he finally gave up on questioning the peculiar turn of events. Instead, he was left with a cold, numb feeling. He didn't get it. Once again he was left out of the group. He was part of a community that didn't share any of his beliefs or values; he was alone in the world. Which would have been okay, really, if he'd had something else to remember or believe in. But he didn't.

Sora was left in a world were he didn't agree with the present, but had no past to hold onto. All he was left with was his own anxiety and numbness.

The dark days were far from over.

A/N: I have to say I really struggled with this chapter, Sora is a hard character to write for me, because he's naturally so cheery and i made him go through so much... :c  
I honestly don't know how I did on this one, without my beta I'm a bit lost. Hope everyone enjoys it anyways though! Again thanks to everyone for the stellar reviews, a lot have people have been speculating about Sora and things regarding Roxas' past, all I can say is sit tight and all will be revealed 3


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